How to Save a Life
by Akatsuki Feathers
Summary: Damien’s developed a dangerous hobby... devil worship. In a last ditch effort to save him, his Guardian Angel decides to intervene... *AU, Damien/Pip*
1. Milkstone

Chapter I:  
_Milkstone  


* * *

_

Sitting upon the bench, he sighed with a breath lighter than feathers and allowed his crystallized air into the free sky. The vapor snapped into incredibly and unimaginably small spheres of crystal and ice where they melted swiftly into nothingness again.

The dark-haired boy beside him presented a sly smile and talked amongst the other dark-haired children, a little cigarette crumpled between his yellowing teeth. His milkstone cheeks were set ablaze by the nipping chill of the outside atmosphere and the intense fire-of-a-spirit that thrashed within his earthly shell.

His breath synchronized with the boy's, a single cloud of dew mixing and stirring into the air, masking his very presence in the human realm and the divine. The blonde, the brightest star of the small crowd of children, sat unnoticed but perfectly content with the knowledge.

The fiery, burning-coal-haired male punched the boy next to him, spouting something boastful and filled with venomous pride.

The dark-haired one by his side smiled sharply, dangerously, and spat his cigarette out. He stood up sharply, spindle-legs holding his lanky form up high above the fire-and-soot-headed boy.

The blonde stood along with him but stepped back, large and very rare sapphires glowing bright and watchful. A giant wind blew down upon the crowd of five and the fire both inside and outside of them cooled, shrinking back from the cold chill and into a small beating morsel of their original selves.

The teens settled onto the bench, excitement cooled with the winter-strong freeze. They shivered, mouths turning to ice and their noses coddling with robin-chest blood. Their generally dark eyes all settled up to the sky above them where small and unique sculptures of ice twinkled down upon them.

The cold only relented more.

The group stood, gave looks of so-long and parted their ways, cold chins tucked close to beating hearts and prickling scarves.

The blonde stepped after the sharp-faced raven-head, head cocked to the side and large blue eyes watching him intently. He licked his lips, but with no real need to.

"Damien," his hymn wafted through the air, lovely and soft with tender love and care, "Wouldn't you rather go to the movies or the mall, rather than back to your basement?"

He was deaf to the younger boy as he walked down the snowy street. His hands stuffed themselves lovingly deep into his pockets, heating them like fresh-out-of-the-oven dinner rolls. His fatigue-covered eyes fell onto the sidewalk and at his shifting feet.

"Perhaps a quick run around the neighborhood then? You really don't want to go down there, in the dark and the gloom, do you?" He suggested, feet taking graceful steps over the ice-laden sidewalk.

A gust of wind blew against the two, shifting Damien's sloppily cut hair into his face. The blonde beside him kept in perfect condition, not a hair out of place as the wind seemingly blew right through him.

"Really Damien, what is so appealing about that shadowed mess of a basement? It reeks of bodily wastes and too-strong incense. Why not stay outside a little longer and soak in some vitamin D? You're becoming as pale as death, really you are. I'm a little concerned." He paused when Damien paused, head cocking to the side as he looked over the darker teen's shoulder. His golden eyelids fluttered as he looked down at the empty sidewalk. He did a semi-circle around Damien, curving his spine to look at Damien's down-turned face.

"Damien?"

His eyes were held strong and intense against the giant crack that stretched before his feet, a spot where snow was stuffed inside. His lips curled down into a frown before he abruptly started walking again, head turned back up and eyes alert.

"You could possibly go ask that girl for a date, if that would make you happy. She seems nice enough and her guardian is absolutely lovely. A very confident young lady, she is, and with such bright red hair. All I can say is wow!" He laughed, heavenly voice ringing even in his ears.

He wondered if the boy could hear him.

Damien allowed his eyes to clasp together; hiding those sweet eyes that he knew had to be there, somewhere hidden far below. His nostrils flared as he almost leisurely walked down the street, taking a trained turn into his neighborhood. He pulled his hands from his pockets as he neared his sunny blue home, hands reddened and wrinkled from the pressure and the heat. A ring of keys was pulled out along with the hand, resounding along with the remnants of the blonde's laughter as it tinkled in the breezy winter air.

He sighed, seeming somewhat upset, tacking down tip-toe steps onto the flawed ground below his feet. His shoulders rotated, stretching every muscle that was built upon his scapulas and keeping them fit. He quickened his slid across the ground so that he and Damien were side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder. His lips pulled into a smile that overworked mothers and tired fathers wore as they watched their child run through the water park for the first time, worried about their well-being but unable to do much but sit back and watch. His eyes were rounded and soft, careful and kind, cautious and worried.

Damien continued on, allowing his eyes to slide open as he turned into his yard, j-walking through the frosted grass and to his front door. The white door smiled at him as he angrily jabbed the key into the lock and turned it, unlocking it and allowing himself to slide inside.

The fair-haired one walked in and he quickly caught up with the seemingly suspicious Damien ahead of him. He followed him to the stairs like he had seen so many times before and his cautious face slipped into full disappointment.

"Now, Damien! Have nothing I said effect you, dear? This is not the right path; please stop digging your own grave! I only say this because I'm so very worried about you!"

The boy shivered as he unlocked the basement door and threw it open. He stepped in, descending down before he slammed the door shut and locked it back up. He exhaled sharply from his nose, shivering again in a sort of pleasured ease as he enveloped himself into the stench of the basement.

He followed obediently, toes soft against the carpeted stairs.

The after-sense of cigarette and incense smoke filled both sets of lungs, one of comfort and one of unease. A second wave hit them, one of something much more primal and animalistic. The stench of the body caked in the fairer one's nose, making him pull his lips close together and shake his head a little in disapproval.

Damien threw himself down the last couple stairs and onto the awaiting mattress that was thrown towards it from the night before. The bed frame that the mattress would have been on was now in pieces and piled in the middle of the room, made into a make-shift alter.

He bounced against the messy mattress, lolling his head back as he looked around his large and very dark bedroom. The standing lamps in each corner were alit, much like they always were, and were casting yellowing glows across the entire room.

He made it to the trash-covered floor and carefully stepped around, looking at the sloppy alter with worry. "Damien," he called, hands clasping together in a worried habit, "Damien, call for me so I may help! Damien!"

He sighed and pulled his arms over his head and against the nape his neck. He stretched his head back and looked blankly up at the ceiling, dark eyes half-lidded as they scanned across his basement. They landed on the spot where the blonde stood, quivering very slightly.

He quietly turned and looked at the bare wall behind him. He saw nothing.

"Who's there?" he asked, face trained to him.

"Excuse me?" He asked, watching his curiously as his blonde eyelashes turned to hummingbird wings.

Damien was silent; simply staring at what the blonde thought must have been empty space to Damien. "Show yourself," he finally said, dark eyes unraveling his soul.

He was relieved that the boy finally called for him. His original task would be so much easier. He sighed happily, golden face beaming as he allowed his feet to fully touch the floor and his shield to fall.

Damien's eyes turned to wide disks as the boy revealed himself. He lay for a long moment, still with shock. Finally, his face shifted like a flipbook, shock altering quickly into rage.

"Damien,"

He shot to his feet and lurched toward him, hands up and around the blonde's neck instantly. "Who are you?" He snapped, eyes held rabid and wide.

He was calm as he allowed a smile to slip onto his lips, "I'm your Guardian Angel, Damien." His eyes softened, "My name is Philip,"

His grip tightened.

"Now let me go, please." His hands gripped around Damien's wrists and he slowly eased them away from his neck. There were no marks left over.

He growled, form shaking like a barley tree in the wind, "Guardian Angel?" He screamed, enraged.

"Well yes—"

"No, no, fuck no!" Milkstone embedded with wide rubies, staining his cheeks with holy wine. "No wonder Satan has yet to come to me!" He screamed and wailed; eyes held burning and form shaking. "You're here, tainting my air!"

Pip's eyes grew wide, "No!" He said quickly, shooting his hands away from his wrists and to his burning face. The enraged blood that coursed through Damien's face was the same temperature as Pip's usual comforting heat. "Do not be swayed by his temptations!"

"No, no!" He forced his hands around those thin wrists, gripping them with the strength of steel. "No!"

He calmly slid his hands away from the boy's face and successfully out of Damien's grip. "Yes, listen to me Damien!"

"No!" His tongue tied and his mind went into repeat, only the word of disagreement slapping from his throat. The clattering was back, the one in which left his mind and speech into an infinite loop of nothingness. His face was harsh and intense, life boiling over and over as his hands clenched and unclenched; mind tinkering over the many thoughts of sin.

"Damien, please pay attention to me. I'm trying to help... You did want assistance, didn't you?" The angel asked with his face lax and his clear eyes transfixed straight upon Damien's earth-bound ones.

His fist shook, "No, I did _not_ want help from you! Fuck you! Go away, _angel,_" he spat at Pip's feet.

He frowned, lips rolled in, creating a thin line, "But Damien," his voice quivered like harp-strings.

"Get the fuck out of here! I don't need you! _Get out!_"

His heart-beat hummed and he obeyed what the boy had ordered. He could not help the boy unless he was asked.

The boy did not need him, so he must leave.

Philip pulled himself onto his tip-toes and allowed his wings to sprout from his back. They folded out, the doing of origami treasures, and into a large span of white-wash feathers and a golden glow. He pulled himself up off of the ground with a small waft and he miserably pulled on his shield, masking him away from the boy.

He needed to help the boy back to the right path, he knew... but he could not do anything if he did not ask for help.

In an instant, he was gone.

Damien slumped down onto his bed, eyes closed in a make-shift blindfold. His chest rose and fell, quick with confusion and the fade of memories. His face was contorted, unhappy and pained.

"What just happened?" He asked, other-worldly fog filling his mind and distilling the interaction. The image of Philip faded lightly; storing him deeply in the confines of Damien's head, peaking from the shadows but never fully exposed.

He pulled his feet completely off of the ground and pulled them neatly to his chest, toes crossed and arms secured tightly. He was not needed, he was not able to help, and he was not able to make a mark, to bring Damien to the light...

"Damien," he muttered quietly, crystal-ball eyes filtering down to the dark boy below, "Damien."

He curled up onto his side and sighed heavily, eyes squeezing shut.

Above, towards the stairs, towards the rafters, towards the sky, towards the heavens, came the bang of fatherly fists. The voice echoed, distilled behind wood and locks, with a concerned reverberation that only a father could hold. "Damien," the voice called, "Are you down there?"

The blonde shifted amid the air, glancing from the door and from the man that he knew stood behind that one barrier to the still slumping Damien.

He rolled his eyes and lolled his head around and to the stairs that rose above him. "Yes, Father!" He yelled, tone biting with attitude.

"Dinner's in an hour,"

"Yes, Father!" He growled, eyes clasping back shut like change-purse clips.

Pip shook his head and rested his chin against the tops of his knees. He did a small mantra of the boy's name in his thoughts with a feeling of sadness doing waves against his heart. The warming glass shell around his heart pulsated against the rush of the cool wave, doing no damage but certainly causing a full-body chill.

"Oh, Damien," he said miserably, looking down at him with concern.

* * *

The guardian angel of Damien's father was a muscular man named Thomas. He was like a horse in human form, skin pulsating with strength and diligence; strong, dependant, and disciplined.

He was a remarkable man that Pip really looked up to.

Before his death at the age of fourteen (it really was an unfortunate accident) Pip had lost every male role-model in his life. His father had died when he was three and he rarely ever saw his brother-in-law. Those were the only people he actually socialized with other than the children around him (and they did not enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed theirs.)

His first Guardian Angel duty was for a boy named Charles almost twenty years after he had died. He was a nice boy.

After him, Pip had no other people before he had taken up Damien.

Either way, Thomas had become a fatherly figure to him like the other guardian angels from the past families. He looked up to him and went to him for advice.

"Thomas," he said as the father and son dined beneath.

He looked up, eyes unthawing from his deep thought, and to the blonde. "Yes, Philip?"

"How can I get Damien to change his ways? How can I get him to understand?" He asked, feet crossing and hands locking around his knees.

He ghosted over toward the younger angel and he placed a warming hand onto his shoulder, "You'll have to take action."

He turned cornflower sea glass toward the other man's lips, studying how they pinched and twitched into a small smile. He found himself doing the exact same, slipping on a surgical mask of a smile right back to him, shielding back a great proportion of his worry behind the upturn of his lip.

"The issue about that is that I can't take action unless he asks me for it... You've been a Guardian Angel much longer than I have, is there a way I can take action without him asking?" He instantly felt guilt course through his body like angry lava. He had been so preoccupied with trying to bring Damien away from his dangerous rituals that he had forgotten that perhaps he needed to go down such a path.

He rested his chin on the heel of his hand, looking at the younger angel with a deep-thinking look. "You could always try a miracle."

Pip practically leapt with the thought. He, in his entire eighty years of being a guardian angel, he had never preformed a major miracle. He had done small ones but never a major one. And he knew; the one he had have to do to make Damien change would have to be a big one.

"A miracle?" he sputtered, eyes peeled wide and body reeling into a defense, "I can't do a miracle this big unless he's in mortal danger..."

He shrugged heavily and glanced down at Christopher. "Who said this wasn't an emergency? Well, from what I've seen from Damien... Pip, he's heading down a bad path and I know nothing about him being needed to follow this road. You need to take action and help him," his face, square and controlled, lowered with his eyebrows, "If you're not intended to, you will not be able to change and do so..."

Pip was about to say something, but his voice was blocked by Thomas' continuing words.

"It will never hurt to try; especially if you believe it's the right thing to do."

He nodded in agreement, straw lashes fluttering as he blinked with thought, "Yes, that makes sense. Thank you, Thomas..."

He nodded and eased back, watching over the small family. "I suggest you start with the school. Become his friend there and slowly ease yourself into his personal life, directing him to the correct path."

He nodded once again, hair bobbing.


	2. I Hate Mondays

Chapter II:  
_I Hate Mondays  


* * *

_

Monday (muhn-dey)

n. the second day of the week, following Sunday.

Bad. Terrible. Wrong. Displeasing. Unpleasant. Putrid. Immoral. Uncongenial. Ungodly.

Damien worshiped Mondays. In his very honest opinion, Monday was one of the worst days in the week. That's what made them so god-damned amazing. Everyone hated Mondays, as they rightfully should.

Mondays were the recovering of Holy Sunday. Mondays were the ripping of virtues from humans with such things as the lustful Monday night strip-joint sales. Mondays were the "fuck that fucker who fired me!" drinking nights. Mondays were the time when the poison of the population raged through previously cleansed veins and tore the body and soul apart and stuffed it into the very cleavage of Lilith. Mondays were a smothering force that jammed itself into every throat and every heart, forcing a world-wide feeling of dread and despair for the upcoming future.

It was magical, really.

It was a thing that he wanted to bestow himself toward others. He wanted that other-worldly power to make people lose hope and fear the future.

If you can make them fear what is to come, to make them lose hope in the future... that... that was real power. That was _real_ control!

A control that every so-called evil person in the history of the world had possessed once in their life-time; he wanted it. He craved it like the girth of swine and the flesh of virgin, intense with lust and agitation. A withering infection...

He knew he would get it too, one day. He could feel it straight to the yellowing marrow in his basalt bones. He would grow old and he would be a strong man with strong qualities and an even stronger face and _he would have this power_. He would be a powerful force; unlike any one-man force anyone has even seen.

Caesar! Stalin! Hitler! Mao!

Fuck, he'd be the Anti-Christ! He would send currents of fear throughout the entire religious system! Every monotheistic and polytheistic group would drop to their knees for him, beg him for help and hope, mercy and love, and he would reply, "No."

He would stomp on their hands with under-used cleats. He would lead marches of bare-footed agony through streets and forest to deserts and swamps; a throng of people taken out due to a certain characteristic he wasn't feeling particularly fond of that day. He would cause the ravage of famine and disease through every part of society, from the riches to the rags to the underbelly of society.

One day, he would rule. He would rule the world and throw it into its most primal of states. He would rip apart every rule and norm that was ever set in the existence of man and he would throw the victims in the lion's den of the world that remained. He would watch as they fought and killed. He would watch as they consumed their own. He would watch as they broke each other and themselves apart from his lofty skybox; enjoying the one remaining piece of civilization all to himself.

He would rule and he would shake the very foundation of human nature until it crumbled in his course hands. He would watch and he would laugh; juices of euphoria seeping straight through to his loins.

Mondays were the days of evil. Mondays were the days of hopelessness. Mondays were his days. Mondays belonged to Damien.

So that Monday, he skulked with the knowledge that his day was there again. He was there again like an unholy phoenix, reborn from the ashes of the week before.

The small murder of teens followed behind him like henchmen, their long faces and black-hair coursing a venom into his sight. They were the first to fall under his charisma and power, the firsts to be considered followers. He didn't know if they understood his control over them (he had only tested it rarely) and he didn't care if they understood or not.

They were wrapped around his finger.

The group stepped to the school, all of them but him stepping towards the back to skip class. He found himself wanting to follow them, much like every other day. He resisted, knowing that knowledge was better than whatever they did behind the school.

He forced his hands deep into his crisp jean pockets and stepped strongly into the school. He tried to ignore the people around him as he straight-leg-marched to his locker to grab the materials he didn't bother to bring home with him.

He slid himself down next to his locker and did the combination with a long face. Damien slid his bag out of his locker and set it, with a heavy _thunk_, onto the ground.

"Damien,"

He turned to see a black-haired girl step toward him. "What do you want, Wendy?" He snapped, eyes narrowed and eyebrows turned downward.

She frowned at him, hip jutting out as she arrived to him. "There's a new student who needs help finding their way around here." She announced, eyes held like stone against his cheeks.

He glared, "And why can't you do this?" He asked as his hands found their way back into his pockets again. He leaned back against his locker, closing it with the force of his back.

"I'm busy helping other students this morning." She replied.

"Why the fuck do I have to do it?" He barked.

"Because Principal Victoria told me so,"

He growled deep from his throat, "Where are they then?"

She gave him a sharp looked before she said back to him, "The counseling office."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, make me do more work," he retorted as he picked his bag up and off of the ground and slung it over his shoulder.

"Be nice to him," Wendy warned, voice like needles.

"Sure thing, sugar-tits,"

She stomped on his foot as he stepped away from her, glaring.

He walked down the hall quickly, pretending that his foot didn't hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. He would nurse it after he gave the new kid wrong directions.

When Damien did make it to the counseling off, he found a girl sitting in one of the chairs by the door.

She looked up, blonde hair parting and blue eyes batting. She smiled brightly, teeth perfect and white, and stood up with a look of excitement.

The happiness of her entirety made him sick to his stomach.

"You must be Damien!" She said in a deeper-than-female voice that threw Damien off kilter, "My name is Pip!"

He frowned, "You're a boy?"

Pip frowned back, "Well yes, I am..."

Damien snorted, holding back peels of laughter, "_Really_?"

He looked mildly offended, "Yes, I am in fact a boy!"

He continued to snort for a short while before he replied with a shake in his voice, "Sure, sure, _Pip_."

Pip pouted; the glow of his Nazi-esque features hidden behind a shield of offense. He lugged up his carrier bag from the floor and watched him precariously, feminine face shaped behind jutting lips and spring-blue eyes fanned by blonde lashes.

The so-called brought to Damien a venomous feeling of déjà-vu. He knew he had seen those almost angelic features before, hidden behind smog and pollution and miasma, and folded neatly within the very confines of his memory.

Drawers...

He could feel a tingle in his fingers over the now-standing boy. He felt a strange muscle-memory of gripping the tender milk neck and digging his fingers deep into his trachea, blocking off all life. Anger rushed deep into his bones, tainting his marrow red.

Damien glared at him.

Pip's face puckered and he sent a look of hurt to the dark-haired youth.

He growled and stepped toward the hall once more, "What classes are you going to first?" He didn't wait for the bright boy.

Pip dashed after him, hair and saddle-bag flying back with his speed. "English," he replied jubilantly.

He ground his teeth together, "What teacher?" He held his breath.

"Mr. Pumpkin,"

"Fuck!" He yelled, fists clenching around backpack straps.

Pip jumped with shock and looked at him with concern, eyes stretched wide so that his sapphire eyes were entirely shown. The skin on his forehead was flawless despite the obvious strain.

"We're in the same class." He growled, annoyed. The last thing he wanted with this bubbling fool following him around was to have a class with him right in the morning. Hopefully their seats would be far from each other.

"Oh, that's lovely!" He commented happily.

He grunted, "What do you have after that?"

The blonde thought for a moment, trying to remember, "Study Hall with Mrs. Brown,"

Damien bit his lip in order to prevent another expletive. How could they possibly have the first two periods together? "And what do you have after that?" His stomach knotted.

"Biology with Mr. Stevens for third and fourth period—"

The bell rang.

Damien cursed thoroughly and loudly.

Pip smiled.

He skulked to his next class, Pip skipping at his heels.

* * *

All of his classes...

Damien crushed his hands deep against his cheeks, groaning in frustration.

The blonde was in every single class. Not only was it irritating, but also freakish. It wasn't right, the sheer coincidence that the boy would not only be in every one of his classes but also seated relatively close to him for each one.

It was wrong and annoying... and Damien was starting to feel like it was an unholy punishment.

He slumped against his last period class, seated next to the blonde, and he wondered vaguely if he should engage more thoroughly and more frequently in his sacrifices.

"S-So Damien," Pip's face burned bright like a florescent light bulb.

Damien only vaguely listened, mentally taking tallies of animals he would be able to smuggle into is house without his father noticing. He had stopped at a cat or small dog when Pip's voice caught his entire attention.

"Do you have any plans tonight?"

He ground his teeth, angered by the sheer amount of dependence the boy seemed to have developed over him.

Damien didn't want the happy boy to follow him around and want to be bestest-buddies-forever with him. He just wanted the boy to get over the small tour he gave and go find some friends that weren't him.

Fuck, he could only take being around the kid for so long before he grew suicidal tendencies... or homicidal.

"Yes," he snapped, rolling his eyes angrily as he tried to ignore Pip.

Pip looked surprised, which only pissed Damien off even more. "A-Are you sure?" He quite nearly whispered with his eyes half-lidded and lips pinched and pouted.

He ground his teeth, "What's with that reaction? Do you think that my life is so uneventful that I'd be desperate enough to hang out with you?"

The blonde seemed to shrink, hurt by his words.

Damien was pleased with the reaction.

His hands twisted together nervously as he tilted his head down, "I'm so sorry, Damien,"

His chest burned with what he assumed was satisfaction as he turned his attention away from Pip and to the endlessly ticking clock on the far wall.


	3. Friends

Chapter III:  
_Friends  


* * *

_

The final bell rang and Pip hefted himself and his bag up. He slung it over his shoulder and stepped gracefully towards the door.

Damien, all anger and basalt eyes had left the room quickly before him. He had fast walked with that power stride of his away from him, away from the light and away from salvation.

He took the time to stop by his locker and put away his things, as meticulous as a sculptor with marble. He put everything in the shelves built within, leaving his bag and empty; a sack filled with potential.

Pip sighed heavily as he stepped down the thinning halls and towards the back of the school. The delinquents must have been gone; school was over for the day after all.

He slipped out, unseen by all, and carefully galloped down the steps and to the cold, rough patch of grass that sprung under the school's shadow.

The children were not there.

He sighed, heavy with relief, as he shrugged the burden off of his shoulder and allowed his human gauze to coil back into his solar plexus. The paling skin and oily organs rolled and spun softly like a jarred window curtain, twirling like soft skirts into his form. His heavenly face glowed as the human material pulled away from him and opened his physical-soul to beam. The change between human and angel was nearly seam-less, physical-soul falling under the shield of the angel right as the human disguise tucked itself back into him.

Pip allowed himself to pull onto the tips of his toes and he quickly went to find Damien, wings propelling him far through the thin winter air.

He found the noir-haired boy on his way home, pallid face pulled back in a look of mixed emotion as he talked to his friends.

He could barely read it; pleased, excited, irritated, angry, dark, light, quiet-before-the-storm... It worried him. "What are you up to Damien?" He asked softly to himself as he made his way closer, round eyes tipping with sorrow. He could have whimpered in dismay over it.

The curly-haired boy that stepped behind him made a face of surprise, dark brown eyes coursing through Damien's temple.

The angels above the other four children presented faces of concern, all of them directed to him.

Pip hurried along until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with the very unknowing Damien. His goose-egg ears tuned and listed to his boy with a heightened sense of emergency.

"You guys want to come over today?" He asked while his eyebrows tilted back with relaxation. His hands were back in the pockets of his brand new jeans, shoulders thrown back and feet swinging with each step.

"To do what you were just talking about?" The temperamental one asked, seeming too a little uncomfortable.

"Of course; I'm being punished for not doing proper rituals. I should have thought of that before," he mused, dropping a rock into Pip's stomach, "I need some more people."

Pip squirmed, "Damien,"

"You need to stop him soon, Pip," the curly-one's angel said to him, glowing bronze face shifting with worry.

"I'm trying Mark," he replied, growing anxious, "I really am,"

Miranda sighed from next to Henrietta, "I saw you in class," she commented with small gravel in her voice, "As a human."

"I need to perform a big miracle," he said, his breath falling quick, "And I need to be Damien's friend to perform it."

"Get a move on it," the red-head told him, arms crossing under her breasts. "He's really getting serious!"

Pip whimpered, "I know, I'm trying."

"I'll distract them from going. I have a bad feeling about tonight." The guardian of the youngest member commented softly, baby face and cobalt eyes softening as he raised his hands into the air and asked for a blizzard.

"Thank you, everyone," he said quietly, watching as the wind picked up.

"I can't have him fall deeper into this pit," said Mark, face strong as he turned away with the tall boy. "So long,"

"Good-bye,"

Damien called to the tall one, but he simply continued walking away. Damien gave a sour face and yelled something rude to him.

The snow started to fall, flecks of white floating down to the cement below.

His face flamed bright as the wind seared against his skin, sharp and icy. Damien commented on the cold weather with an expletive.

"We'll be going soon," Miranda said, bright hair bobbing in the darkening sky.

The snow fell down harder.

"Bye, Pip," the youth-angel said as the youngest member made an excuse and turned to leave.

"Good-bye Demetrius," he said, smiling weakly.

Soon, the other two left, leaving Damien and Pip alone.

Damien's face was rough with anger and numbness; eyes squinted against the now white foreground in front of him. He swore and cursed, angry with his friends and the fact that they wouldn't be coming to his house that afternoon. His step quickened as the wind picked up even more and started to blow snow into his shoes.

Pip followed obediently, face placid like a calm milky river. His hands were curled to his chest as he glided along, unaffected by the snow that slammed into the human in front of him. He honestly, full-heartedly, hoped that Damien wouldn't go along with the ritual that night. Perhaps without the pressure of friends, he would start to understand that what he was doing was not right.

Damien slammed the door in front of him open and nearly fell into his house. He seemed cold.

Pip watched as his father peaked from his computer. "Glad you're home," he commented happily, face beaming, "The weather picked up so quickly I thought you would be snowed in somewhere."

He allowed a rumble to exit from his chest as he steadied his footing and trudged toward the ever foreboding basement. "Yeah, whatever," he replied as he unlocked the door to the basement and stepped inside.

Pip heard the door click with the lock. He quickly went to the door and seamlessly allowed himself in. There was a terrible pain in his chest and upper stomach, whispering to him of facts that he really wished were not true.

Damien was on his mattress, face pressed heavily against his comforter. He looked exhausted and Pip couldn't help but wonder why. He was muttering things to himself, things that were so quiet and so private that Pip could not translate.

Pip sat down on the mattress next to him and watched him worriedly.

He flipped over, arms held up and the tops of his hands sitting restlessly over his eyes. "I can't do much tonight other than the usual." He said to himself, voice seeming so strange without the tone of aggression and power behind it.

"Damien," he said; a soft whistle of water pipes and the wind outside.

He sighed.

Pip stood up sharply and prepared for action.

* * *

His toes were freezing.

He shivered heavily, body convulsing heavily as his human form allowed all of the heat out of his body, and reacted like a normal person would to the loss. His nose ran quickly, leaking down his lips and to his nervously darting tongue. His cheeks hurt terribly and the feeling in his ears disappeared.

He stood in front of Damien's house, exposed knees shaking, and he jerkily knocked onto the door. He was forced into a torture as he waited for Damien's father to answer the door, body jolting as it desperately tried to warm him back up.

The snow slammed into him, building against his thin leg hair and inside his shoes. He didn't want to know how much had collected in his hair...

The door opened and Damien's father looked at him curiously, face scrunched at the strange sight.

"May I-I u-u-u-use y-y-your ph-phone?" He asked, breath dumping out as a large plum of condensation into his face.

"Yeah, sure, come in," he said quickly, stepping back to allow the bright-faced blonde inside.

He shuttered as the heat sweltered against his face and thighs. He started to feel better, albeit itchy, as the heat refilled him.

Damien's father escorted him to their phone.

His blue eyes filtered through the room, catching a hold of Thomas' before they quickly went back to the phone in front of him. He dialed a number, a fake one, and held a one-sided conversation with himself for a good ten minutes.

He hoped Damien still wasn't doing anything.

Pip hung up and turned to the father, peripheral vision picking up on Chris in the corner. "My mom will be here in a half-an-hour. Is it okay that I stay here until then?" He gave a pout, eyes filled with hope and the innocence of children as he looked up at the man.

"Yeah... It wouldn't be right of me to just leave you out in that blizzard."

"Thank you very much... My name is Pip Pirrip, by the way." He smiled brightly, teeth gleaming and arm outstretched.

He shook it with a cloned smile, "Nice to meet you Pip. My name is Chris. Anyway, do you got to school around here?"

"Yes, I do!"

"Do you know my son Damien?"

"I just arrived to the district but yes, I have met Damien. We have all the same classes, strangely. He was kind enough to escort me around for my first day." He beamed.

"He did?" He seemed surprised but his face melted quickly into a look of pride, "How nice... I'll go get him!"

"Lovely!" His heart swelled as his plan went into motion. He followed the man as he stepped toward the basement.

Christopher rapped his knuckles against the door and waited with a small hum as the steps of his wound-up son stomped up the stairs.

"What?" He seethed out, teeth clenched and chest heaving very slightly. His eyes were trapped on his father's face, never once glancing over at the stranger that stood only a yard away.

"A friend of yours is here," he said.

Damien turned started down the stairs.

His father seemed startled, "Dam—"

"Let him down here," he said, voice level and growing stony.

Christopher turned from the door and to Pip. He shrugged heavily and moved out of the way to allow Pip through.

He took feather-light steps across the chaffing wooden floor below him and looked down at the basement of his nightmares. A ripple of concern and fear ran through his spine as he took the first step. The carpet of the stairs itched right through his shoes, sending a sensation of evil straight to his heart.

Pip continued out, allowing the door to close completely behind him.

"So, you decided to come here anyway?" Damien mused.

He wondered if Damien understood it was actually him he was speaking to and not one of his friends.

"Did you bring the steak?" Apparently he didn't understand that Pip was there instead.

"Damien," his voice was soft as a flute as he finished his tread down the stairs. He long-stepped over the mattress at the bottom of the steps and allowed himself to wait in an open area in his messy room.

He spun, startled. Damien's eyes were narrowed and ablaze, egging him on to take another step. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't move. Something in the air smelled different. "I was on my home when the weather became so bad that I couldn't make it any longer. I came to your house by chance to call my mother. We live on the far outskirts of the town, just within district range, and it'll take maybe twenty minutes to get here to pick me up."

"By chance?" he asked, eyes stretching wide in suspicion.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He could feel something wrong in the room, but he couldn't pinpoint what. "Yes... I'm just as surprised as you are!"

"You wouldn't be here because you're stalking me... yeah?" Stone against a steel grate, his voice ground out from clenched teeth.

"What?" He laughed genuinely, "Of course I'm not stalking you,"

"Then the fact that we have all of the same classes is a strange coincidence then. And the fact that you came to my house rather than the other ones around here is a big coincidence too."

Pip smiled weakly.

"I'm not buying it," he snapped as he carefully stepped toward him.

Pip's smile died and he stood awkwardly, waiting to see what Damien was going to do next. "I-It's the truth..." His voice faltered, spiraling down in a fight of inner bearings against inner bearings.

"Get out," he commanded.

Pip dropped his head, respecting Damien's power. He couldn't see the expression on the boy's face, but the energy level in the room seemed to spark even more, giving Pip the impression that Damien was going into one of his fits. He quietly stepped up the stairs, chest easing back in exhale as he ascended with each step. The pressure of the basement squeezed out of his body with a press of air from his lips. He shuttered, an autumn maple-leaf, consumed by disappointment and self failure.

The blonde felt his heart strike like a great-grandfather clock as he arrived to the door. The carpet under his shoes struck at his feet, threatening him to leave. He looked back down to the cave below, all shadow and musk, before he opened the door and allowed himself out and into the welcoming light.


	4. Venom of Repeats

Chapter IV:  
_Venom of Repeats  


* * *

_

Damien dropped onto his bed and slammed his hands into his eye sockets. His chest ached terribly: heart pounding along with the beat of the pressure behind his ears, ribs arching against swelling lungs, and arteries filling with poisonous déjà-vu.

The boy..! The boy with all of that blonde hair and smiling face, big blue eyes and pink cheeks! He continued to swirl in the depth of his mind, of his subconscious, fucking his thoughts raw with that damned smile and innocent face. He filled his stomach with moths and the empty, rattling cocoons that came with them. He filled his heart with shocking lime venom, forcing all of the adrenaline to clutch straight to his heart, forcing it to pump harder, harder, harder, faster too! His pores grew, releasing scent of man onto him, drenching him from crown to sole.

Damien's fingers twitched as he watched them, eyes gazing lazily to his hand but more so to the empty ceiling above him. His entire arm shook, not violently, but more like the slight tremor of just post orgasm. His lips were pressed tight, face forced into a look of deep concentration and disturbance.

He had seen him... this Pip character... before. He knew he had seen him before, but where, but where, but where? Where did this boy pop up from? Where did this boy plan to pop up next? Where in their pasts had he seen this boy before? Why did this boy bring back memories of anger, of disgust, of inner turmoil, and of deep-pitted regret?

In that smile, he could see the face of God.

It made his stomach burn just thinking about the holy being.

He found himself thinking, so very truly, that he would both want to strangle and ravish the bubbling blonde. The sexual attraction didn't bother Damien in the least. He could never really pinpoint his attractions either way, and he had learned to deal with them quite easily.

But something ate at him, tidal wave against rocky shores, and he couldn't put a finger on it. His mind continued to twirl, far beyond the time Pip had said would be his wait and far beyond the time his father had called him for dinner.

He simply rested there, eyes never moving from the spot on the dark redwood ceiling, as he inwardly battled for a grip on what was really happening...

The smoky-haired teen didn't like to think like such, but his mind had pointed out to him that all strange occurrences in his life had started almost an entire half-year from his present time, marking right during his discovery of satanic worship.

Connecting two and two wasn't hard. He wasn't dull; he knew that such things were most likely occurring because of his new... faith... He also understood that it sort of came with the territory. He knew that there would be people who would try to save him from the sin of the devil.

They didn't understand, however, that he was above them and above change. They wouldn't be able to convince him to stray away from the path he had taken. His mind was set and was now an unmovable force of nature... and once he made his pact with Satan, his alliance would be forever set within his soul.

Banging from the door, "Damien, aren't you coming to dinner?"

"No," he was not going to change his mind in the least.

He thought back to Pip and back to those mother-hen blue eyes. He hadn't really thought about it before, but the boy's eyes were in fact very bright. Like a bright Caribbean sea, or of those cornflowers, or of hyper-polished sapphires. They were bright, clear, and knowing; a glimmer of wisdom flecking across the bright iris.

They knew something and they were hiding it from him...

Damien allowed his eyes to finally fall from the ceiling, squeezing them shut as he found himself thinking in circles again. In the end, he was back to how he knew Pip and why he looked so familiar...

He exhaled heavily and allowed his body to relax. The heat of his basement, the smell of Henrietta's old incense, and of his own sweat gently wafted through his muscles. He slumped, tranquil, and let his eyes finally fall lax much like the rest of his face.

He would sleep on it...

* * *

He could tell, even under his house and covered by layers of blankets, that the sun outside was unnaturally bright. He could smell it even through his highly controlled air, he could taste it from behind teeth and cotton, and he could feel it pressing lightly against his gullet.

It was a happy day.

He pulled himself from bed, breath falling out hard, and he could feel the chill of his basement ghost across his skin. Goose bumps rose, covering his pale arms in barren hills. He hadn't expected his room to feel so cold... he wondered if the heat was broken again.

Damien was sluggish as he dressed, taking painfully long intervals of taking off clothing, unfolding clothing, putting on clothing, and stepping toward the door. His foot sank in his mattress and his mind sank with it too.

Blonde hair...

"Fuck!" He could feel his body falling, but all he could really think of was how he was falling and not necessarily how he was going to catch himself. He did fall, and harder than he hoped, right onto the mattress with his chin cracking into the second to last step. He swore again, lower lips splitting open and his teeth resounding in pain.

He rolled over and onto his bed, hands cradling his wounded mouth. His throat bobbed, frozen in pain. His tongue ran across his teeth and his suckled his mouth, hoping that the pressure would make it hurt less.

It did.

"Fucking Tuesdays..." he complained, helping himself off of the dirtied mattress and carefully up the steps. He continued to rub at his jaw, moving it around in a test to see if it were okay. The dark-haired boy made it to the top, grabbed his keys from the small wall-hook on the wall to his right, and stepped out of his room and into the sunny land that was the rest of his house.

The door shut with a tamer snap that he typically would shut it, surprising him and the air around him. He locked the door before he pocketed his keys and sulked toward the kitchen.

"Morning Damien," his father tried to keep a happy face on, but it seemed all but futile as the exhaustion throttled into him at full force. He took a shaking sip from his coffee, seemingly to try to gain consciousness back before he had to be at work.

Damien couldn't bring himself to respect the man that sat at his dinner table. He was a pathetic creature, really... a man who couldn't bring himself past his own weakness toward his family to even take proper care of himself. He knew the man had spent all of last night tossing and turning in his bed, regret and guilt flooding him over Damien's missed dinner. He could hear it, even deep in his basement of darkness; the non-existent sound, the noise of the man turning in a web of sheets, sweating bullets over the insignificant facts of him and his son's relationship.

What a poor excuse for a person.

Damien hummed something in response and took a seat at the table, eyes scoping over the large breakfast that was prepared for the two of them...

It was larger than it normally would have been, which only supported the fact that his father had been so guilty over him and their missed meal that he seemed to want to make it up with an unnecessarily large breakfast.

Big post-blue eyes...

A chill ran through his body and his shuddered. It was strangely cold in the house and he wondered for a second time if the heat was on or not. He decided to bring it up to his father, annoyed with the coldness.

He would have to change into something warmer if it really were that cold out.

"Is the heat not working or something?" He asked, taking a small bit of cereal. His eyes were pointed to his father, sharp as razors, and formed his mouth into an unintentional scowl.

He looked at him softly before he shrugged, "It doesn't seem like it... I'll call the repairman to check it out later," he glanced at the clock.

Damien and Chris sat for a long period of quiet, eating their breakfast without another word. Damien finished quickly, only eating cereal from the large array of food that was presented to him, and he stood up without a word and stalked to the door.

"Damien," his father called, voice slightly less meek then it was before.

He sighed in frustration and he looked back into the kitchen, "What?"

Christopher frowned, looking nervous. "Have a good day at school," he finally said sadly.

He rolled his eyes and turned, "Yeah, okay," he went to leave.

The man sighed thickly, the sound loud to even Damien's ears.


	5. Emotions

Chapter V:  
_Emotions  


* * *

_

Thomas presented Pip with a platter of concern, his face contorted with fret.

The blonde nibbled down on his fingers, golden face twisting as he pled for more time. He knew what the man was going to say, he could see it as well.

Damien's father was fading. His heart was bleeding too openly and his son didn't seem to want to acknowledge the fact that he was wounded and needed support.

He was inwardly disgusted at the fact that Damien would so openly ignore his father's troubles and stress; pushing it off of his chest and continuously being rude and destructive toward their relationship. Outwardly, however, Pip could only bring himself to feel worry; worry over Christopher and worry over Damien's emotional development. He didn't understand the lessons that God wanted them to know and he was leading a path of chaos through his life and through the lives of the people around him.

He would have to work faster if he really wanted to help Damien and his peers.

"Pip, I need to talk to you," his voice rose like trumpets, gracing Pip's ears with sounds that would make any human cry with joy.

He watched as Damien walked out of the house. He gave a tug of paranoia to his bottom lip as he imagined the weakness Damien was at without his guardian by his side. He wondered if he should tell Thomas to tell him later, when Damien was home and safe.

"This isn't about Christopher," he said, strong jaw set and earth eyes held strong against his own blue eyes, "This is about you,"

He quirked his brow and tilted his head a little, lips squeezing shut and chest twisting as his mind whirled. He wondered if the older angel would lecture him about taking quicker action. He wondered why he felt so strongly over the criticism he may or may not be given. He wondered why his chest burned so much over something so small.

"When Damien was born, and you came down here to look over him, I've noticed something... different about you, Pip." He took a seat at the now empty dinner table.

Pip followed suit, despite the fact that neither of them needed to sit. "What do you mean?" His voice peeped out small.

"You're so much more emotionally involved in these things then regular angels..." He explained, "It's very unnatural and I'm starting to think that this might be what is preventing you from taking major action..."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," replied Pip, face twisting more and more. He felt like the pressure in the room grew five-fold, forcing his feet fully onto the floor. A flurry of strain, like the snow from the night before, surged deep through his veins, making his not-quite-there heart beat faster with a thump-thump-thump-thump. His form was telling him that the conversation was not going in a good direction.

"I've never met another angel who worried and fretted and felt so much. Not as much as I've seen you do... It's strange and I don't think it's a correct trait in an angel. Yes, we're supposed to be human... but to a point. If I didn't know better, I could easily see you as a normal human." He had crossed his arms as he spoke, eyes growing deeply serious and lips pushing to a line again.

"What is wrong with being more human?" Deep down, he knew the answer. It was encoded right on his body, always retelling him the laws of guardianship. He couldn't bring himself to imagine that he was pushing himself into these sorts of situations simply because he was emotionally more complex than the average angel.

"You know, Pip... You know that such deep emotions can lead to dangerous actions. You know they can overcomplicate faith and lead a person toward the road to Hell. Do you understand what would happen to you if you really were walking this line? Satan would snatch you away and rip away your wings, forcing you to walk on earth in agony for the rest of eternity."

His golden cheeks were bright with henna, his eyes and brows collaborating into a squint, trying to hide away the knowing irises that lay behind them. He knew it. He hated himself for it, for he knew it. He would never betray the Lord; never in his mortal and angelic life. Pip felt himself drifting.

"I'm worried about you; that's all." He smiled weakly, chuckling almost unhappily, "I've been worrying about a lot of people lately."

The hot iron of shame seared his cheeks, leaving even large red stains on his swollen cheeks. "I'm sorry,"

"Just try to keep your emotions in check. Don't get yourself into unnecessary situations." Thomas said softly, kind and tender like the father Pip never had.

"Thank you," he whispered harp-strings and piccolo twitters.

"You should go to school know. You're about to be late."

He jerked from the chair and up off of the ground. Pip repeatedly thanked Thomas for a second time before he hurried off toward the school.

The blonde took haste, zooming through the air with his wing-span held wide their rate much higher than normal. In record time, the school came into his blue sight and he took no haste in landing toward the back of the school.

Perched on the steps sat his favorite person; Damien.

He nearly smiled. That is, if it weren't for the mix of emotions from earlier and the addition of the ones that shot through him as he thought about why Damien was outside the school... so close to the start of class.

Surrounding him sat his friends, the social outcasts of the school and the ones with the more destructive habits. None of them had anything as bad as Damien, however.

He landed down next to the other angels, his chest heaving slightly but his skin still flawless. He greeted the angels softly before he circled around the school and to the deserted corner.

Pip's feet rested flat against the ground and he pulled open his arms, holding them out to allow the energy of the planet into his heart. His wings folded and shaped back into his back, tucked and knitted neatly against twin scapula. A breath of frigid air stained against his lungs as he inhaled sharply, his shield falling and his mask undoing itself and covering him quickly.

Layers of oily flesh covered over his heavenly form while stacks of organs replaced bits and pieces to make him even more human. More air filtered into his lungs, his chest arching against the cold and his cheeks burning bright in the chill.

Clothing finally dripped onto him, from slacks and snow-cap cuffs to buttons and black-shined shoes.

The voices of the other children were becoming clearer as his ears flickered from virtuous hearing to earthier, shifting from the soft hymns of angels to the emotional bays of humans. The twinkle-box turned into an old-fashioned gramophone and his body shivered at both the loss of heat and the down-grade of noise.

He took soft steps, feet sinking down low in the large build-up of snow as he turned the corner and presented his humanoid form to the teenagers.

The red-and-black-haired one scoffed and jerked his head in Pip's direction.

The other smoldering eyes of his companions followed the motion and one-by-one landed on him, freezing his shoes and the trim of his pants to the ground below.

"What are you doing back here?" He asked, voice flaking through his mouth in an innocent tone.

"Nothing," Damien snapped.

"The bell's about to ring... Shouldn't you be inside?" His crystal strong eyes wavered from their faces and to the masked ones of their guardians.

"Shouldn't _you_ be inside?" The tall one countered, face long and eyes rimmed with the need for sleep. His shoulders hunched, every muscle in his form seemed to be screaming for rest.

Pip felt his chest ache in pity over it. "W-Well yes, but—" his breath shuddered, leaving him into forced silence. He quietly pondered in the very core of his mind why his human-body made him do that. It didn't make much sense to him...

They all gave a look of mild disdain.

"What are you doing back here?"

He hesitated, mind processing quickly, "... I'm going to class..."

"From the back of school..?" They were unconvinced.

Damien was unhappy; it was obvious the way his face was twisted. His blanched lips were pulled thickly into a frown; dark eyes squinted against the dull morning sky and sharp eyebrows down-turned into a furrow just above his nose. The wrinkle on his forehead was the thing that Pip was impacted most over.

When had that gotten there? What was it that had created that wrinkle? When had he missed the creation of that stress-line?

Had he missed other things?

The wind threw a warning cast upon the group, forcing clothes to shift and chill to kiss previously covered skin.

He scanned between the faces, eyes flaked in stars and face burning bright, and he shivered along with them with a deep-seeded and desperate attempt to be just like them.

"I want to be your friend,"

The confession made the boy's face fall with what Pip supposed was surprise.

"What?" Damien asked, genuine curiosity wafting from his normally violent mouth.

He looked at him, black-to-blue eyes staring each other down, "You helped me around to my classes without having to be asked... and while you didn't seem too happy about it, well, you did it anyway." He smiled weakly, stomach squirming from the lie. "You're a nice person and I would like to be your friend."

His face was flat now, as were his friends', "You want to be my friend?"

He continued to present that tiny smile of his. "Well... yes."

"...because you thought I showed you around for no reason?"

The smile waned, "...yes,"

The boy with reddened hair snickered a little.

Damien's mouth stretched into a nasty smile, "That you must be mistaken. I didn't show you around out of... kindness. That bitch Wendy Testaburger told me to."

His eyes squinted, wind slamming into his face. He couldn't think of a way to respond, lips rolling and the bottom of his stomach turning sour.

He looked triumphant, happy that he had turned Pip's thoughts on him.

"I still believe you're a good person. So what do you say? Do you want to be friends with me?" He beamed.

They all stood, legs bowed in the cold air and feet curled like present-ribbons. All of the dark-eyes from the children where centered on the two of them; Pip and Damien, Damien and Pip. The world spun.

Damien's smile settled to a calmer and kinder one and he answered smoothly, "Sure,"

Pip nearly cried in joy.

The foursome beside the two all had looks of shock on their faces, lips stretched and eyes narrowed.

"Oh, that is wonderful! Absolutely fantastic!" He cheered, shifting his bag slightly on his shoulder, "Shall we go to class then?"

Damien turned away from him and walked to the side of the school, away from the door. "... No, I don't think we will."

"Why?" He asked, following along almost without will.

The others followed with soft footsteps.

He threw his head over his shoulder and smiled. "We're going to the store. Pip, if you want to be my friend, you're going to have to accept me the way I am."

He hesitated in step, hands wrapping tightly around the strap of his saddle-bag.

Damien waited, chin resting against his shoulder. His eyes spoke scores of confidence and cockiness, knowing Pip's future response.

He couldn't fight against it, both he and Damien understood that, and he nodded in response, whispering a positive word as he followed the group of five.

* * *

The entire trip to the store and then to Damien's house was peculiar. They had all walked so very casually through the streets and to the local grocery store.

Pip wondered why none of the adults that walked around them had reported them. He wondered why they didn't even seem to notice the six children walking down the street so openly during school hours. Were they really that invisible to them?

They browsed through the store with ease, bought things with ease, and left the store with ease.

No one questioned anything.

The bag in his hands was as heavy as his stomach, both filled with unwanted emotions and a taste of death. Several large slabs of freshly cut meat rested at the bottom of the bag, butcher paper gathering the left-over blood and the oil from the fat. The smell was terrible to Pip's human nose and it left twinges of fear in his lower lungs.

"What are you going to do with this meat?" Maybe he didn't want to know the answer.

He threw the blonde a tiny smile, a look that was mischievous and dangerous. "You'll have to wait and see for yourself, Pip."

The curly-haired one seemed uncomfortable as he walked next to the girl of the gang, his hands forced deep into his pockets and his eyes down-cast to the snowy ground.

Mark, the angel above him, was looking nervous and uncomfortable as well, quietly talking to Miranda.

The dyed-haired boy's angel, Jean, was speaking softly to Demetrius, all of them seeming to trying to work something out amongst themselves.

Pip had momentarily forgotten that he was human and to see the four angels conversing so privately, seeming to ignore him, hurt him. But he then noticed that he was, in fact, not normally allowed to see them and promptly pushed away the small feeling of betrayal.

They arrived to his tiny little home, keys tinkling and locks stretching. The door was thrust open, building deserted for the hour, and the group of six entered and shifted quietly inside the house.

The floor whispered secrets as the shoes of the teenagers scuffed and leaned their burden onto it, groaning with each tread forward.

The keys were back out again as Damien arrived at the basement door, other keys scrapping against each other as he inserted the perfect one. With the door open, the group filed one-by-one down the narrow stairwell and into the pit.

Pip was the last one to descend, his ears swearing they heard demonic hymns being chanted in the background, somewhere far, far away. His stomach knotted even further, each step shooting a spike of suspicion into him. His hands scrunched in a mild panic around the rolled top of the paper grocery bag.

When he made it to the bottom, he saw Damien leaning against his alter and the others seated in random places around the cramped room. Damien motioned to him; he quietly tip-toed around the mess on the floor and to the dark-haired, dark-eyed teenager.

Damien took the bag right out of his hands and opened it with swift crumpling. He pulled out the large slabs of beef and he slammed them onto the table with a wet slap. Watered-down blood spilled onto the make-shift table, Damien's fingers tainted by the smell.

He smiled at the watching group, confident mood radiating and rubbing against Pip's skin, causing it to itch and swell.

He watched him, nerves on fire. "What are you doing?" He had a feeling of what were to happen... He hoped his feeling was wrong.

"Just wait, Pip... now come here." He motioned to the table, eyes twinkling, "Come and take a seat."

His stomach twisted.

The faces made of milkstone and eyes of black sapphires watched Pip and Damien with suspicion.

"What are you planning to do, Damien?"

He glanced sharply at the curly-haired boy before replying sharply, "What I was going to do yesterday, Logan."

His lips were thin and his eyes dangerous, "What do you plan on doing with him then?"

Pip gently stepped away from his boy, his heart hammering thickly in his throat and his eyes refusing to stop their quiver.

Damien latched onto his wrist and he drew the blonde close to him, his arm wrapped securely around his waist. "Nothing,"

Pip could tell that he was lying.

He pinched Pip's cheek and smiled sweetly at the Goths. "I'm not going to do anything to Pip."

His face burned in shame, his shoulders hunched close to his ears and his eyes held wide as they looked at Damien's face.

"Get away from him, Damien," Henrietta warned, now standing.

The red-and-black-haired one stood with her, face contorted with anger.

The other two followed, looks of disgust shifting between all of them.

"Just because we don't like kids like _him_ doesn't mean that it's okay to kill him." The smallest member said.

He gapped, "Kill me?" Pip nearly screamed.

His hand clamped over his mouth, "Hush," he turned to the group again, "Seriously you guys, you thought I was going to kill him? No... No! I wouldn't go that far." His voice was quiet, giving the impression that perhaps he was unsure about that statement as well.

Logan stared at him.

Damien let out a sharp breath and he released the blonde, his hands cramming themselves into pockets and his eyes becoming adverted. "Still want to be my friend Pip?"

He knew what Damien was about to do. Everyone in the room did. But did human Pip really fully understand the situation? If Pip had been born during the time everyone in the room had, would he have understood what was going on?

Probably not...

"I-I'm not quite sure what happened just now," he replied, face still flushed, "But I still believe that I'd like to be your friend, Damien." That persistent smile was on again.

The more color-orientated one scoffed, commenting with venom, "Idiot."

Damien's face confused Pip, as it had both a hint of positive emotion and negative emotion concealed within it. Was Damien happy that Pip still wanted to be his friend, or was he unhappy about it?

Logan was already walking up the stairs and to the exit.

"Fine, leave," Damien barked to him, slowly allowing his hands to pull out of his pockets.

"I will. Henrietta, Erik, Robert, come with me." His eyes were on the others, sunken in and dark.

The three looked from Damien to the curly-haired one before they filed to the stairs as well.

Pip could see the angels above them present looks of relief and hope. Pride swelled in his own chest over their choice to get away from such activities.

Damien growled as he turned to look back at Pip, eyes narrowed so far that Pip was sure he probably wasn't able to see past his eyelashes. "So, what? Are you going to leave me too?"

He looked at his clear face and then to the feet of the leaving others. "No, I won't leave." It was his duty to stay.

His eyes widened, "Really?"

The smile stretched with a forced reassurance, "Yes. I said I wanted to be your friend, didn't I?"

He looked at him thoughtfully, before he turned swiftly and leaned over his alter, "Wonderful."


	6. All Is Power

Chapter VI:  
_All Is Power  


* * *

_

His original plan didn't seem to be working. But perhaps having that Pip kid around could benefit him... especially when he friends decided to puss out on him.

He was hoping that his little ruse of pretending to sacrifice Pip to the devil would scare him away permanently, but Logan was idiotic enough to grow some sort of conscious and prevent him to. The others were following his lead as well.

Damien could tell that there was something brewing inside of that guy... he could see it in his actions.

Logan was changing. His usual 'doom and gloom' personality was fading behind a veil of control and what seemed to be... kindness. His Gothic persona was disappearing and this new boy was emerging from the cracked shell that remained.

And he was ruining everything.

He took a seat against the edge of the bed-frame-made table and motioned for Pip to take a seat as well.

He wrung his fingers together before he smiled a little wider and allowed himself to sit next to Damien. His face was still bright red, probably from the embarrassment of being the only one to stay, and his lips were twisting and pulling with concentration.

"S-So, Damien," the boy beside him spoke at last, his voice gentle but rough with nerves.

He scoped his eyes to the bright blues of the others, not-so-curious as to what the bumbling boy had to say. He clenched the side of the table, fingers numbing and knuckles draining, keeping back a sigh of irritation.

"What is it that you were going to do with those steaks?" The eyes had flickered away in embarrassment. Damien supposed it was because he had caught the blonde staring at him.

His nearly-forgotten and nearly-healed split lip ached as he raked his teeth across it, a small spasm bursting forth from it. He licked it roughly, calming the pulse, before he replied, "Summon Satan,"

The blonde slipped from the crude alter and onto the floor. His eyes were drawn wide and buggy as he stared at him. His mouth was pulled open wide, tongue held flat behind rows of perfect teeth.

Damien couldn't help but grin.

"S-Summon, S-S-Sa—?" he screamed; his cheeks red and eyes pin-pointed to his smile.

"Yeah, that's right." He stood, hands warming from the sudden allowance of blood. He knelt before him, hands presented in a small token of false-kinship, waiting for the other to fall for the trap.

He gripped the hand. His eyes grew wide.

Damien's heart stopped in his throat, the spit turning into sour gum and tongue dissolving to ash. He lost his breath.

Pip pulled to his feet, eyes clicking from panicked to confusion to happiness like a slide-show. Those cobalt eyes were trapped on a non-specific spot on his face, eyes quivering and eyelashes batting a good-bye. He drifted away, trapped within a layer of his own mind.

Damien's lips were dry as he released his hand and restarted his heart. He turned, eyes landing of the sacrifices that were still slapped on the table.

Pip would make a good sacrifice. He was pure, or at least from what Damien could tell, and he was clean. He was probably a virgin too, telling from his attitude and innocent demeanor.

"What religion do you follow?"

Pip jumped in surprise, face dripping with sweat. He paused, wondering, before he replied much too softly, "I'm C-Catholic,"

It was too perfect. He could nearly sense the power now, sopping his tongue back to normal levels and sending tremors of pleasure through his muscles. Pip was everything that Satan was not and a surrender of him to Satan would surely gain Damien some rewards.

"Damien..." He stared at him with extreme discomfort, his teeth pinching his lower lip and his hands wringing together almost like that Butters child. "You're not serious about this, are you?"

He knew he should have smiled, it was what he would have normally done, but he didn't. He simply stood and watched the boy, his face grim. Something inside him trembled, something that was alien to him.

"Of course I'm serious about this," the something inside him swelled with the words, sending small spasms of pleasure from his tail-bone straight to the base of his skull, "I've never been so sure in my life."

His face flushed, "But don't you understand what will happen if it really does work?" The blonde sputtered, his eyes waving across Damien's face.

"Of course I know!"

"You want Satan to take your soul? You want eternal damnation?" He cried.

"Yes!" Damien screamed to him. He gripped onto his shoulders and glared at him, his teeth exposed and his fingers quivering, "Yes, I want this! I want everything the devil can give to me and more! I will have that power, no matter the cost! I _will_ have it!" He shook him violently, forcing the boy's head back and forth, hair splaying in a golden tide in the air.

Pip turned his arms and wrapped his pianist's fingers around his arms. He settled the shaking and allowed his dizzy-eyes to reset.

As Damien stared down at him, he could see something change within him. He could see his timid-ness drown under a wave of quiet-calm, his eyes growing deeper and more controlled.

The blood in his abdomen curdled.

"Why?" His voice was solid, powerful, eyes scoping across ever pore that rested on Damien's face. His hair was untidy and yet he didn't look silly but rather he held this sense of mild animalism; a primal frizz and a sharp, cunning eye.

He kept himself calm, his hands only clenching tighter around Pip's arms. "Why?" He whispered back, his lips feeling swollen with the single word. He didn't have to wait for a confirmation, he could see it straight in Pip's pupils, and he finally told, "No one can ignore the ruler of the world."

Pip stirred, his eyes dilating big again and his lips shaping into a puckered heart. The power from before dropped quickly, disappearing either back into the child or completely off the plain of existence. He leaned against Damien's steel-grip, groaning gently.

He refused to let go. "To have this power, to have the ability to do whatever I want, will leave me one of the most feared people in history. No one will forget me. No one would want to forget me. People would learn about me in school and they will hear of my legacy and _they will remember_. I will be known to everyone and everything!"

Pip stared up at him, his teeth ripping the tender flesh off of the inside of his lip, "Is that why? It's because you want to be acknowledged?"

Their noses touched, his lips curled into a smile and Pip's into a frown. "Yes,"

He pushed the brightly colored boy away from him and watched as he fell onto his bed. "I'll see in school tomorrow, Pip,"

Pip stared.

"Go,"

He stood up and back-stepped to the stairwell. "Good-bye,"

He grunted.

Pip started to leave.

Damien ignored it until the boy's feet were barely in his line of view.

* * *

What was he going to do with these steaks?

Damien drummed his fingers against his knees, shoulders tucked close to his ears and his lips curled in a frown. His eyes shifted from the steaks, now aligned into a tower, and to the lamp opposite him. The shadows on his face were deep.

He sighed heavily and stood up, hand gliding against the edge of the table. All of his ambition to do it was completely gone... no matter how rancid the meat was starting to smell.


	7. Pain

Chapter VII:  
_Pain  


* * *

_

"Yes, I want this! I want everything the devil can give to me and more! I will have that power, no matter the cost! I _will_ have it!"

Pip's neck snapped and his head was thrown about, his body being manipulated like a doll in Damien's course hands. His eyes began to spin, stars bursting within his vision as the blood rushed from the front and then to the back of his head with each lurch. Bile began to rise up his throat.

It was a horrid feeling, really. The thickness, the bulk, the acidic after-burn; his head was growing light from it.

He gripped at Damien's wrists, forcing him to stop the thrashing. His head was beating, temples feeling as if they were on fire. His heart was very faint compared to the utter drumming that his ears were picking up from within his skull. The blonde wanted to fall onto his knees, curl and calm his body down.

It was his first real human injury in a very long time.

He was going to be sick.

His turning eyes lifted to Damien's, his head lolling back very slightly with a ghost of fatigue. His lips thinned.

A freezing cold hand, an entity of heat-stealing and cradle-robbing, stretched under his human-shield.

His very core froze, the surrounding heat shocked and stunned by the sudden cold. His shoulders locked, lips thinned... eyes narrowed. His body was taken over by cold and malice.

"Why?" His lips and throat had formed, lips feeling chapped and cracked and devoid of any moisture whatsoever.

Damien did not react to his unwillingly said words. His gripped tightened, nails digging deep into cloth-covered flesh, and he whispered out softly, "Why?"

The pause between them was short, filled with thick understanding between Damien and ice.

"No one can ignore the ruler of the world."

The cold smiled in the back of his head before it pulled out swiftly.

Pip's body flashed with heat, eyes growing wide and his lips squeezing together tightly. The pressure of Damien's hands around his arms doubled and his gasped, the pain overcoming him. He shuddered and leaned against him heavily, trying to ease the pain away.

"To have this power, to have the ability to do whatever I want, will leave me one of the most feared people in history. No one will forget me. No one would want to forget me. People would learn about me in school and they will hear of my legacy and _they will remember_. I will be known to everyone and everything!"

He bit his lip, his mind spinning. What was Damien talking about? Power? Lots of power. Damien wanted power. Power from what?

He understood.

"Is that why? It's because you want to be acknowledged?"

He closed the space between their face, their noses touching. "Yes,"

Pip's heart stopped. They were so close, their arms close, their chests close, their faces close, their hearts close... He frowned.

The movement was quick and before Pip even knew it, he was pushed away and onto the mattress. His heart was beating faster, his muscles clenching tightly in anticipation.

"I'll see you in school tomorrow, Pip."

He stared.

"Go,"

The blonde's mind started back up again and he carefully stood up. He took careful steps backwards until his feet meet the edge of the steps. "Good-bye."

Damien replied with a feral noise.

He turned and climbed up the stairs. He looked back, nervous, before he turned again and made it to the steps. "Damien," he whispered under his breath as he opened the door and stepped out.

Pip collapsed just as he closed the door, his entire form trembling. His brought his hands to his face, shaking and feverous. He mumbled softly, eyes strained wide and mouth draining of all moisture.

His mind rolled around, trying to figure out what exactly had happened only moments before. What was that cold entity that had taken over him? _Why _was it able to take over him? What kind of being could possibly be in Damien's basement that could do such a thing?

Pip's body shuddered violently as he fought back vomit. His skin was clammy, his eyes narrowed, his pores wet, and his heart thumping.

His eyes widened with understanding. He hurriedly pushed his human self away and allowed his angelic form to arrive, divine shell encasing him swiftly. He quickly descended down to the basement once more and his hovered over Damien possessively.

"Damien, what did you bring down here?" He asked, harp tingling. His eyes inspected the room, searching for a demon or other powerful monsters.

He didn't see anything.

"Damien, what have you brought here?" He drifted along the walls, hand ghosting against the dark brown wall.

There was nothing.

The lamp, he stopped by it, his stomach growing sour. "Damien, stop."

He watched as Damien peered down at the sacrifices, his face contorted with thought.

"Damien..."

* * *

The blonde wearily stepped into the school, his shoulders hunched and his eyes wide with ultra-alerted-ness. He didn't want to look overly worried but he could hold it back so much and for so long.

He had gotten to the school earlier than Damien in hopes to catch him at the front door and prevent him from skipping again.

He lingered by the door, body tucked close to the beginning of the lockers. His hands wrapped within each other as he waited, eyes still incredibly wide and obeisant to the building around him.

Damien pushed through the door and past the blonde. His face was twisted, enraged and saddened and everything in between. He turned his eyes to him, connecting their gaze like twin pieces of metal being soldered together. The heat that flashed within Pip's body and what Pip assumed flushed within Damien's was just as strong.

He scowled at him in return once his composure regained and he stalked off down the hall.

The hay-haired boy allowed a bolt of offense to streak across his face before he carefully followed after him. He unhooked his hands and pressed their sweaty palms deep into his pockets, submerged in crisp beige cotton.

Damien paused in step and Pip imagined himself disappearing. But the male with deep-shaded hair continued on, stride extending further than his usual. His shoulders were slumped and it was growing rather obvious that he was upset about the night before.

Pip made it about half-way down the main hall, behind the unknowing Damien, before he was slammed into the locker to his left. His breath escaped his mouth with a rough intensity, leaving him somewhat winded. Footing lost, Pip crashed down onto the floor and to the people's feet. His side stung as he situated himself and looked at his assailants.

A pair of upper-classmen looked down at him, faces morphed with seriousness, twisted with anger, and dotted with amusement.

"Excuse me?" He was able to squeak out, eyes drifting past their large forms and to the paused and watching Damien. He looked back up at the two males and then further to their angels.

They both looked tired as they returned his gaze, obviously sympathetic to his situation. "Sorry," one of them had even told him.

"New kid," one of them snarled, large mouth twitching. He had a squaring face, obviously over the climax of his puberty, with thick and strong eyebrows tucked over dim eyes. The diameter of his biceps was almost equal to the trained girth around his stomach. The muscles under his tight skin rippled as he twitched impatiently, leering down at Pip.

"Freshman." the other preened with a toothy grin stretching wide across his face. He was the leaner of the two; obviously build more for more endurance sports. He was shorter than his companion as well; less developed physically but seemingly more dangerous than the bigger one.

"Hello?" He squawked softly, eyes glossing over like the sheen on pearls. He looked back at their faces, eyes panning across the general area, catching a glimpse of both of their expressions.

Damien lingered forward softly, eyes of prey poised past the two boys and onto Pip's face. His shoulders were still slumped however and his stance was relaxed, appearing more like an eavesdropper than a spy. His eyes slipped closed momentarily, seemingly to block himself off from the three conflicted boys before him.

Pip felt a terribly pain in his stomach that was not resulting from the earlier push into the lockers. He knew the feeling from long ago, when he was still human and young. It was the feeling of impending danger, of an attack that was hiding just behind the hall corner in that dark hallway. He had felt it many times when he was aging into a young man; times where kids would throw dangerously heavy and sharp objects at him, times where he held the last piece of bread his family had, times where his sister screamed and yelled at him with the fury that Hell could never surpass.

Those two older boys had no good intensions in their minds. Damien didn't seem to hold one either.

The smaller one motioned quickly, too fast for the blonde to register what it meant.

Before Pip knew it, however, the larger was over him, hands balled into his shirt and legs squared. Before he could figure out what was happening, he was hefted high up into the air, shoulders far above the other boy's. Before Pip even knew what he was doing, his body went into panic-mode and he was thrashing about like a fish out of water. His arms were pin-wheeling while his legs were kicking.

"Let me down!" He shouted, eyes pointed to Damien as he yelled, "Let me be!"

The leaner one glanced over his shoulder and his sneer grew wider. "Well look at who is watching!"

Damien's smile instantly fell to a frown. "Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?"

The meatier one craned his neck and looked over at Damien, roused by the comment he had made.

Pip continued to dangle, his floundering all but stopped as his concern for his own well-being shifted to Damien's. "Don't touch him!" He shouted. Pip was thrown to the floor, landing with a painful thud. He yelped softly.

Damien was wrenched by the arms and thrown onto the fallen blonde, leaving them into a strewn pile of limbs and groans.

"What was that, new kid?" He couldn't tell which of them had said it, his mind to abuzz with the new spike of pain in his stomach and the boy that was on top of him.

Pip felt his body surge with heat from the contact and the concern. He could tell that his fingers were shaking a little, body flaring with heat.

Damien scrambled to his feet, face flushed as he glared down at the boy. "What are you doing?" He growled at him, punching him in the side, "Shut the fuck up!"

He was kicked in the side by the leaner on and he doubled over.

"Listen here, freshmen," he growled down at the two of them, "You're going to take this like men, not like fucking pussies. You got that?"

They struck again, foot sticking sharp into Pip's side this time. The kicking only continued, assaulting the two boys until they were surely black-and-blue.

They were certainly broken by the time the students had started to file into the school and when people had started to notice the abuse going on.

Pip was the first to stand despite being focused more upon rather than Damien. He hefted to disoriented raven-head and slung his arm over his shoulder. He helped him along to the nurse's office. It was sad, but at that very moment, he was sort of glad that the two upper classmen had beaten them up. He had never felt closer to Damien than he did as he assisted him to the nurse's office. He was sure Damien was grateful for his help as well.

By the time the two of them had limped their way to the nurse's office, Damien had regained full conscience.

"Get off of me," he growled and pushed him to the floor, baring his teeth in warning.

Pip sprawled, already pained enough. He held his paining side, eyes clenched. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Damien paused, his face red. He mouth closed and pinched, eyes settling. He grew a look of guilt and he knelt down, helping Pip to his feet. "I'm fine," he replied softly.


	8. Over an Idiot

Chapter VIII:  
_Over an Idiot  


* * *

_

Fuck.

Damien glanced over at Pip, frowning softly.

He hadn't expected the guy to be concerned over his well-being after being beaten by the two upper classmen and then pushed onto the floor by the boy who he was trying to help.

He actually felt... kind of bad for Pip... a little.

Stupidly, not only did the blonde try to protect him with this retarded mentality of friendship, but he was also helping him to the nurse despite being beaten much more than he had. He must have been pretty badly hit, considering the way he was curled up into himself, groaning thickly.

And he had pushed him over.

Damien hated how he felt so guilty over Pip. He was supposed to be the most badass person to date when he grew up and there he was fagging over something as small as an idiot who was beat up. Not only that, but he was fagging over the same idiot who got him beat up as well.

Again he found himself thinking of how he could happily beat the boy to half-death or take him down and fuck him right in the hallway. He was split between ditching the boy and dealing otherwise or luring the boy in and eventually (hopefully) using him as a sacrifice. If not that, at least he could use him for whatever needs he needed to be fulfilled.

Damien knelt down and assisted Pip to his feet, still feeling and looking terribly guilty over the previous actions. "I'm fine," he replied softly, helping Pip to flat feet.

They helped themselves into the office and onto the waiting seats by the front desk.

The nurse, dressed in pink, stepped out from the back and away from a vomiting child and to where they sat. She looked perturbed by their bruised state, but she seemed to have the control to keep from gasping and creating a scene.

"Are your doctor's notes in?" She asked softly, shifting through the drawer on her desk.

"Yes," Damien replied tiredly and he was granted three aspirin to help ease the pain. He stood up slowly and walked to the back room to get a glass of water.

The vomiting child looked up at him, definitely green around the gills, and turned to throw-up once again.

He wondered why he was there so early in the day if he was throwing-up so intensely.

He got a little Dixie-cup from the drawer and filled it with water, taking his pills and grabbing an icepack to place on his bruises. He cradled his side with the cold ice as he watched the boy continued to throw-up in the bathroom. He smiled softly and chuckled quietly, shaking his head as he stepped out and back into the main room.

Pip had moved to the bed, lying on his back with his eyes closed and his lips pursed.

He stepped over to him and plopped down onto the bed, causing the other boy to bounce a little. Only then had Damien noticed that he was starting to feel the effects of his medication... Pip obvious was not.

Either it hadn't kicked in yet or he didn't have a doctor's note to take the aspirin; poor bastard.

He winced sharply, hands wrapped around his sides. "Feeling better, Damien?"

He scoffed a little, "Yes."

"Splendid!" He smiled sharply, eyes squinted with pain.

"Didn't have the note?" He asked stiffly, lips in a frown and eyes adverted.

"I did not." He sighed softly and shifted to his side, pointing his front to Damien.

They both lingered quietly, Damien still refusing to look at him and Pip continuing to pain.

The halls grew crowed and the bell rang, signaling the warning for class. A blob of black filled the doorway, blocking off the palate of colorful students within the rolling halls.

Damien stood up swiftly. He couldn't allow himself to be shown too close to Pip.

"What are you doing?" Henrietta asked, coolly pulling a concerned tone alongside a very Goth-like sort of distance and poise.

He was impressed she was able to pull off such a paradox.

Pip rolled over to the other side, groaning very quietly.

The three other members had entered the small station as well, hands either in pockets, gripping cigarettes, or crossed over their chest.

"Nothing," he answered and started for the door.

"Nothing my ass," she retorted, hands planting firmly onto her wide hips, "Nothing, apparently by your standards, is a bruised body and a split lip."

He clenched his teeth and glared at her. "It is." The split lip wasn't even a result of the earlier fight. He was insulted that she hadn't noticed it earlier.

"Bullshit!" Erik, ever the hothead, shot in as he stepped beside Henrietta. The cigarette that was in his hand had fallen onto the floor, sprinkling it with ash.

Logan was up by her other side, silent and eyes keen on his face.

Hands wrapped into his hair, forcing Damien to seize up with panic. His vision burned white, highlights blurring brightly and shadows saturated deeply. He struck instinctually, elbowing whoever it was behind him.

"They're just concerned about you." The voiced eased into his ear, devoid of any sign of pain that may have been afflicted upon him.

Their faces were twisted, a vast array of emotions and reactions.

He twisted himself around and looked at the person, almost startled by the fact that it was Pip who was softly smiling back at him.

His face seemed more red than gold as the usual blush stretched across his cheeks. He had on the same insufferable smile that could melt one's heart to the consistency of butter. However, his eyes were different than usual. While they were the same vibrant blue and the pupils were only slightly larger than the usual, something underneath them held a lot of difference.

Damien was intrigued.

The flecks of wisdom in his eyes were there, but not only did they seem bolder and stronger, but also for seemingly different experiences. They appeared to be more knowledgeable of bad, evil things.

"You're lucky to have so many people take concern over your well-being." He said softly.

He could sense the crow-ish children behind him were giving him dirty looks. He could feel his grip on them slipping. He could tell that his reputation was depleting.

So, Damien did the first thing that his mind told him to do. He struck back, hand clenched, arm tightly out-stretched, and knuckles broken across the blonde's cheek.

Pip dropped and his back caught onto the bed he was previously lying on. His breath struck loudly in his throat and his eyes grew. His pupils were dangerously small now, only slightly larger than pin-points and the irises around them were very nearly glowing. The red blush was back to the usual golden shade, his generally angelic face renewed. The blonde's chest heaved as he panicked. He held his face gently, like it were a child, "Wha—?"

But Damien had turned away from him and left the nurse's office with the rest of his group, body and mind both unsettled.

"What's up with that kid?" Erik asked, pushing his hands into his pockets in a manor much like Damien.

"I have no clue," he replied.

* * *

He made it up to fourth period without a single sign of Pip. But at the middle of that same period, the blonde had arrived to class. His face appeared far more bloated than Damien's was. Of course, it was all due to the fact that he had been attacked far harder than Damien had and that he didn't have anything to cut down the swelling other than a thin little icepack.

He had taken his seat next to him with a painfully slow pace. His left eye was swelled close and was already starting to plum up. "How are you?" He asked with a puffy smile.

It was unbearable even for Damien to see the idiot coo over his well-being while he was in more pain. It was a damned of a sight to have the beaten fool worry over a guy like him.

Either Pip had a few screws missing in that head of his or Damien had more charisma than even he initially thought.

"Pip," Wendy said softly from his side. She leaned to the gap between the desks, close to him, and gave him her patented Mother Bear "Poor You" face. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"

Pip simply replied with a smile and a quick, "I'm perfectly fine."

Her face squeezed out a confused stare and a mask of worry held at low opacity over her eyes.

"Do not worry, Wendy."

Damien didn't know what had taken over him, but a sudden and sharp force of... jealousy surged through his muscles and forced his eyes to squint a glare at her. Hatred built in his eyes, darkening his irises until his entire eye seemed black, and he sent it past Pip's ear and straight into her own darkened eyes.

Since when had Pip ever paid attention to anyone other than him? How...?

How _dare_ he pay attention to anyone but him!

In his mind, he gripped Pip by the hair and he pulled his head back so that their eyes met. In his mind, Damien shouted at Pip, wrenching his head back and forth violently, jarring the boy to understanding.

"You only look at me!" He said in his imagination, "You talk to no one but me!"

In reality, Damien turned his glare to the back of Pip's head until he had turned back to him with that puffy smile.

"Something troubling you Damien?" he asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?" His lips pouted gently as he continued to give Damien that look of his.

"Positive." His stomach clenched dangerously hard and he felt the need to apologize the blonde in order to rid his body of the feeling. Feeling that way made him want to punch himself _and_ Pip in the face...

He would have to do something about this...


	9. Love

Chapter IX:  
_Love  


* * *

_

Pip shivered as he hung in the fetal position, his knees pocketed inside the ring of his arms. His head was down, eyes closed, and hair creating a thin curtain of gold around his face. If it were possible in this form, his lip would be bleeding and his eyes would be springing forth tears.

"Philip, what's the problem?"

Cold nipped at his spine. He jerked, head pointing up sharply, and he looked at the speaker with widened, chipped crystal eyes. "Oh, Thomas..."

"What's troubling you?" He came to his side and rested next to him.

Pip pulled back his lip in thought as he allowed his form to unfold to a mirror of Thomas' relaxed stance. The cold was gone from his body, always fleeting, as the warmth of his angelic companion invaded the surrounding area. The ring of gold around their heads was dim to them, invisible for humans. He would avoid the topic that was truly troubling him for a different, slightly less complicated issue.

"My friendship means nothing to Damien."

And thus the Damien topic picked up once more.

Thomas sighed heavily as he placed a hand on Pip's shoulder. "You must understand, Philip," he said with the voice of a mouse, "You've only been at this for four days. Do you really expect Damien to conform to your will after four simple days?"

"I-I suppose not..." He rubbed at his fingernails, head down and eyes away. "But things are snow-balling and I'm worried that my influence isn't working."

"Philip, four days will hardly change a person. Even with heaven's influence... Only something drastic and out of our hands can change him that quickly."

Pip paused, his face lifted back up and his features a gap with a struggled thought. His eyes were wide as they reflected to the mass of muscle that was Thomas. Large, blue and clear were his eyes. A gateway to the complex inner channels of his very soul would be a far more accurate description. A door to his thoughts, wishes, and dreams.

Thomas' own flickered, heavily guarded and always alert. They were like most of guardian angel kind, always on the watch for evil and always protected from that same evil.

"What is it?" Pip asked him with wind in his voice, forcing a sort of gusty tone as the house rattled around it.

"Romantic love,"

The blow was hard on his stomach, quite nearly forcing the air from his un-breathing lungs.

"Philip,"

His light was far brighter now.

"Philip,"

He beamed at his hands, thoughts rocketing from one place to another at incredible speeds.

"What are you thinking, Philip?"

"I couldn't possibly do that..." And yet the feeling was there. It was palpable in his chest and heart, the unbearable squeeze of concern and _love_. It was there, present since the start of his appearance, and it was undeniable.

"I couldn't mislead him for the simple purpose of bringing him back... I'd have to leave soon after either way... It would break his heart."

Thomas uprooted himself and drifted off a little, "I want you to decide this on your own."

Pip lurched, "But how will I know if it's the right decision?" It consumed him, eroding him from the inside out. There was doubt.

"Either one has something right about it," he explained, "and something wrong about it." He wandered off away from the blonde, most likely to settle himself back down close to Chris once again. His wide back slowly drifted off until Pip was no longer able to see him.

He settled again, shifting back into his slightly comatose sort of state in which he could reflect with himself. He allowed his anti-breath to settle as he slipped his eyes closed. His thoughts were jumbled. The distinct line between right and wrong within his angelic duty was becoming not-so distinct. Blurring, the shades of grey stretched far too wide, tainting the right and brightening the wrong. Making the right decision was becoming far too difficult for him... unlike before... unlike before where he could think and decide so easily in that angelic sort of way.

Things were different.

Was this the correct thing to do? Or was it just cruel?

He needed help. He needed so much help in this choice. He needed experience and wisdom that spanned far more than his...

But Thomas was right. He had to do this on his own. He was a guardian angel... He was _Damien's_ guardian angel. It was his duty, his privilege, to help him. He was experienced, he knew it... he _could_ do it. He would _have to_ do it...

He _would _do it.

Pip would go up to Damien tomorrow—Thursday—and he would proclaim a love that was there... but was not at the same time. He would mislead the boy in which he was told to love unconditionally ever since his birth that he held romantic feelings for him, after a supposed four days of actually knowing him... He would do it because things were not taking correct course quickly enough. He would do it to save his soul.

It would be the worse thing Pip had ever done in his life and current after-life... the knowledge that he would eventually have break the boy's heart in two. In turn, his would probably do the same.

Doubt was still ever nagging, never ceasing the breath on the side of his neck.

The boy's eyes popped open and he allowed his head to slide upwards, lips pert and face searching. "Lord, is this the right thing to do?"

He was answered with silence and not a sign in sight.

Pip exhaled a perfectly preformed human breath and the wind outside followed his lead, allowing a howl to emit through the house.

It did not appear that this was a question that was worth answering. He was on his own once again...

* * *

"Fuck, Erik, get back here!"

The dyed boy stormed past Pip, thrashing his shoulder sharply against his and sending the blonde to the floor.

Pip allowed a small whimper to fall past his lips as he looked up at the retreating figure and at the dark brown eyes that glared in his direction. But, they were not pointed at him... they transcended him and to the fiery boy that just recently turned the corner sharply.

Damien bared his teeth and held fists at his sides. "Where do you think you're going?"

It seemed that Pip was all but invisible to them at that point. It was a strange feeling, being ignored. He was used to having their eyes scope through him in angel-mode, but it was entirely different when he knew they could see him. It almost hurt.

He flashed his teeth back at him, yellowed by the cigarettes already. "I'm sick of this fucked up shit, Damien! You're so fucking messed up." The words were forced from him in a husky, bark of a tone that cracked with the usual anger that he held and something much more primal.

Fear...

He was trying to break free of Damien's influence.

Pip could not have been prouder. He looked up to Jean, the red-shaded Goth's guardian, and he scanned over his face as well.

He was satisfied with his work it appeared. His clouded brown eyes held bright spots that reflected his own joy in his child's decision. His golden face was softened further with the gentle smile that he held.

Pip wondered how he was able to do it. His clear eyes holding a shimmer of their own as the two continued arguing, throwing words to each other in throat-straining volumes.

"What are you saying, Erik?" Damien scowled, his gums showing, "What the fuck are you saying?"

"I'm _saying_ that this shit is wrong, even by _my_ standards!" The others joined his side, faces dark and agreeing with him. They appeared like an inky shadow of guardianship behind the black-and-red-haired boy; like a second group of angels to support him.

It was a profound sight.

And he was in the middle of it all.

Damien forced air through his lips, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Some Goths you are then! What kind of Goth doesn't support satanic rituals?" He shouted at them through the empty school hallway. The morning sun that beamed through the wall-sized windows made his skin seem waxy and fake. His eyes were wide and filled with power.

"That isn't Goth!" Logan barked. His throat visibly clenched, shutting off his airways, as his face contorted drastically. His teeth were so defined that they shined in the yellowing light of the school; eyes screwed close together with malice practically projecting from them. He took a step and stood at Erik's side.

"Get up, kid!"

Pip jerked and scrambled to his feet, looking over at the clique with startled and wide eyes.

"Get over here." Damien ordered him, eyes strained and his lips quivering.

He looked over at the singled-out boy carefully and he wondered what exactly was happening. First the Goths had called for him to stand and then Damien seemed threatened by his obedience.

What was this all about... truly?

He took a careful step over to Damien, his eyes shifting between the two parties with swift grace.

"Don't go to him."

He froze, taking a careful glance over at the dark group.

Henrietta's mouth was pert and open, the words seemingly still on her lips.

"W-What?" he asked, surprised by their sudden acceptance of him. He hadn't expected them to actually be that committed to _stopping_ Damien... He glanced back at the darkened teen, not-so startled to see him glaring only that much hotter at them.

"Get over here. We're not going to let you go with him." She told him.

"Oh shut up, Henrietta!" Damien ordered as a look passed across his dark eyes. "I'm not going to do anything to him!"

"That isn't what you said earlier!" The red-dyed boy snapped, sending back a look that was five times more venomous and one-hundred times fierier. "We're not going to help you in this fucking scheme, you fuck-tard! We're not fucking murders!"

Pip allowed his eyes to widen and he stared at Damien for a long moment as the two groups were left wordless. "...what was that?"

Damien's face grew serious; very, very serious. His cheeks blanched as the blood rushed to his eyes, sending all other occupants of the early morning hallway into a dead silence.

Their breaths were held, sharp in their chests as they watched as Damien continued to stay just as silent.

Pip knew what this silence meant. He had seen it before... It was the silence before the storm, a point of brewing.

Damien was stewing, on the verge of an emotional outburst. He had only done it a handful of times in the past, but Pip knew the signs.

He took a step back, fully prepared for whatever Damien might be preparing to do; be it fight of scream or hit something. His chest was tight with apprehension and perhaps a bit of fear.

A slow, even breath escaped his lips and his face started to regain color. His eyes were still passionate as ever as they peered at him, pupils flickering against his face. He took a step forward and the group was too silenced to move. He pressed his hand against Pip's cheek very softly as the other one grasped at his elbow.

"Damien?" He asked as his crystal-ball eyes peeled wide in confusion. "What are you doing?"

He stared at him. "You like me, right?"

And the day before flashed into Pip's mind, forcing into him the nausea of déjà-vu. He nodded against Damien's hand numbly.

"Do you like me more than you like them?" His face was smooth but there was definitely something stirring deep under his skin.

He glanced to the side nervously, unsure of how to answer, "Yes, I do prefer you to them."

"Then do you believe me when I say to you that they're lying?" He asked, drawing him closer, his eyes filtering past him and to the group behind him.

The breath in his chest didn't ease and he found himself shuddering very gently as Damien smoothed his thumb down his cheek. Before he knew it, words were flying out of his mouth, his mind spewing things out of him uncontrollably. "Damien, I love you!"

He froze, his hand growing taut against his face. Slowly, it clenched harder until Pip could feel his nails digging deep into his cheek. "Say it again,"

The Goths all stepped forward simultaneously and the two older boys gripped onto Pip's arms. They pulled him back, forcing the two apart.

The sun was starting to rise a bit more and a sign of life filled the school as several students filtered down the hall.

Henrietta took Pip, still numbed in shock, and led him through the halls and out of the school. Her step was quick and sharp, tact with precise taps like the trained moves of a dancer.

The littler Goth tailed after them, his small feet scampering against the tiled floor.

The other two members were nowhere to be seen.


	10. Urge to Kill

**Author's Note:** So, uh, just so you know, this chapter takes place a little before last chapter and a little after last chapter. Also, I miss you guys... :C -crawls back into hole-  


* * *

  
Chapter X:  
_Urge to Kill  


* * *

_

Damien walked into the school sleepily, still a little drossy from the medicine he took earlier that morning. His hands were in his pockets as they usually were, to keep away from the cold that seemed relenting that year.

He really hated South Park at times.

He was a creature of heat. Give him the humid heat of the Hawaiian Islands and he would be happy as shit. Give him the cold, dry air of the Colorado mountains, he was as unhappy as shit.

He wasn't in the best of moods that morning.

Along with his general distaste for the weather of his home town, Damien was also a bit sleep-deprived, resulting from the sleepless night he had. He spent that sleepless night tossing and turning, thinking about important things, like every great thinker in the past.

He was going to have to get rid of Pip and soon. Not only was he getting in the way of his plans, he was also making him... feel some very annoying emotions.

As he trudged through the school halls, he stumbled upon he humble little group of Goths sitting in front of the English hall bathrooms, their backs pressed to the wall and their cigarettes unlit.

"Morning," he greeted them, stooping over the youngest, Robert, and stole his unlit cigarette.

The littler one scowled but allowed Damien to keep the cigarette and instead shifted, pulled a pack out from his back pocket, and pulled a fresh one out. He tucked it between his lips, unlit only for the purpose of not having it taken from him by teachers.

Damien slid the smooth and ever cold lighter out of his pocket and stared fondly at the shiny surface. He flicked it open, enjoying the smooth _shink_ sound it made and the glisten of the thumbwheel and windscreen. With a fluid slide of his thumb, Damien summoned fire from the lighter and held it up to the cigarette between his teeth.

The other three gave him a less than lustrous look that spoke loud of their nocturnal nature and its disagreement with the early time.

Henrietta held herself in close, back hunched over and feet hidden under her billowing black dress. With her entire body seeming to have caved in on itself, she appeared more like a large ball of black than a gothic girl.

Logan was stretched out, his long legs across half of the hallway. His hands were knitted together across his stomach, cigarette placed between his fingers. His dark eyes were focused on the floor in Damien's direction, curling hair hanging over his face. Logan's thin face was twisted in a displeased look, his eyes obviously avoiding eye-contact with Damien.

He smiled at that.

Erik was leaning against Henrietta, his legs crossed with his hands stitched together in his lap. His head rested close to hers, his lips twisted and snarled as the cigarette flickered up and down out of habit. His eyes had flickered up at him briefly before they had fallen back inwards and pointed to the wiggling tip of his cigarette.

"Fine, don't greet me than..." He scoffed and threw himself down next to Robert, dragging in a breath of smoke slowly, savoring the feel of it on his tongue. "So, might I ask why you're all _inside _the school today?"

"The fucking principle threatened to suspend us..." Erik replied, still half asleep.

"... _and_? You can't actually be passing right now anyway, seeing as how you never go to class." he replied, straight faced.

"We're not fucking stupid," replied Logan, still avoiding any sort of eye-contact, "We get the work, we get it done. We do go to class, as rarely as it may seem. Just because we don't conform to the school's standards doesn't mean we don't know the importance of a good education."

Damien listened softly to the rumble in Logan's chest, musing inwardly at the way it projected into the Goth's voice. He shrugged, nodding thickly. "Ah, I see..."

"So, Damien, how are your wounds?" Henrietta muttered coyly, her lips formed in a half-hidden smile.

He leaned against Robert and glared at her, "Just fine," he snapped.

The little one flinched at the sickeningly close proximity they were at, presenting a warped glare to him from the corner of his eye. "Personal space, dude, seriously."

His lips twisted into a sneer and he turned his glare at Robert, "Sorry, Robbie," he leaned away, "Just can't control myself sometimes."

He huffed, "Don't call me that,"

Damien laughed sharply, "Sure thing, Robbie,"

Robert's face flushed dangerously bright and Damien felt the hairs on his neck rise, warning him that the littler of the Goths wasn't going to put up with his bullshit much longer.

He sighed, slumping back against the wall. "Robert, am I going to have to sacrifice you too?"

The group froze, a still and painful breath held simultaneously between all five of them.

Robert flinched but made no move away from him.

"What?" He snapped, feeling deeply uncomfortable with their silence. "I was joking!"

They didn't respond.

"C'mon, Robert! It's not like you're Pip or something!" He grinned, voice light-hearted.

Red Goth stood up sharply, turning his blazing gaze down on him. "What was that?" he snapped.

He scoffed, "God damn, Erik, I was joking! You're too stuck up for your own goo—!"

"No!" Erik cut in, his eyes stretched as far wide as they could go, "No! This isn't about your sense of humor, this isn't about Robert; this isn't about us! This is about you and that idiot, Pip!"

His face twisted. He certainly wasn't expecting that.

"You're really planning on killing him aren't you?" His throat caught and Damien could see his swallow bobble in his neck. His eyes had darkened, sunk in and accusing. They weren't much unlike Logan's, too far knowing and too far tired.

He sucked on his cheek a minute and glared at him. "Maybe," he finally replied. A sick sort of twist tightened in his stomach, making him clench his muscles and hold his breath very gently.

His face burned with anger and stomped his foot sharply against the floor, glaring with such a look Damien almost felt a little frightened. The keyword was 'almost,' however. "You,"

He could feel a fit coming and he took a small step back.

"Fucking,"

He could feel the other's eyes on him.

"_Sicko_!" his jaw was clenched as he projected his voice. "You sick piece of shit! I don't like the little fag but I certainly won't allow you to hurt the little fucker!" With shaking hands, he pulled out his lighter a lit the cigarette that he been clenched in his hand. He shoved it between his teeth and took a shaking breath.

Damien glared.

Then, Erik turned around swiftly and marched down the hall.

"Where are you going?" He snapped.

He didn't stop. As he marched onward, his form slowly grew smaller down the long hall. Just about to round the corner, Damien shot forward and screamed at the top of his lungs, "Fuck, Erik, get back here!"

* * *

_Damien, I love you!_

His thoughts were reorganized when Erik sent his fist into his face with a rather impressive right swing. Damien collapsed onto the ground and sprawled, casting a dangerous glare up at the two, towering Goths.

"Now is this really fair?" He growled deep from his throat as he stared up at them, slowly pressing his arms downward and gently got to his feet.

"This isn't some school-yard fight, Damien." Logan said, stepping over and pressing his foot flat against his chest. He forced him down and onto his back fully.

Damien wrapped his hands around the ankle and wrenched sideways with all his strength, successfully doing nothing more than pissing the Goth off more.

However, he did take his foot off him and knelt down, his long face contorted into an even uglier look. He was awake now, Damien noted as he glared back into those dark eyes.

"What is it then?" He spat.

"It's a termination."

His eyes screwed into his face sharply. He lurched upwards and latched his hands down upon his shoulders. He jerked himself up to his feet and swiftly swung his foot over to Logan's face.

He was stopped by Logan's hands and found Erik's fist in his face once again. He stumbled back and coughed, startled by the powerful impact onto his features. He held his paining cheek and sucked on his teeth. "A termination?" he squawked, "So in order to save that fag, you plan on killing _me_?"

"No, I don't plan on killing anything, especially not a person," Logan slowly rose to his feet, "No; I just plan on ending this bullshit once and for all. It's a termination of this plan of yours."

"I plan on making you as ugly on the outside as you are on this inside." Erik threatened, adding his voice in like a foot-note.

Logan glanced at Erik warningly, "We don't like Pip. Not a bit. But, we're not just going to stand around and watch some innocent kid like him be killed for your sick, satanic purposes. There are other ways to be acknowledged, Damien."

He snorted, "Like you'd know." His face was frozen into a serious twist, his body starting to feel the ache and pains from both the injuries he sustained earlier and the ones he got the day before. "You know nothing. None of you know anything. Ignorant idiots! This is the only way!"

Erik charged and slammed his shoulder deep into the pit of Damien's stomach. This sent them both colliding into the floor, leaving them into a messy pile of limbs and groans of pain. The one with the dyed roots was the first to sit up, just as he was the one who was first to attack, and he straddled the darker one with his knees.

The halls started to gain volume with children and before any of the three knew it, there as a circle of kids around them, all shouting beefs to them, urging the fight to continue.

He sent his fist into Damien's stomach and recoiled as the boy below him spat in his face.

"Get off me!" ordered Damien as he thrashed about, his fists pounding relentlessly at Erik's knees. "Get the fuck off me right now!"

He winced but held on, clenching his legs closer to his sides and pinching his waist painfully.

"Fight, fight, _fight_,"

"I swear to Satan I will hurt you Erik is you don't get off me right now!" A growl rumbled from Damien's throat and he could feel it vibrate deep within his stomach and throughout the rest of his body. He was sure Erik could feel it as well.

Logan backed away, wariness evident in his eyes. His nerves were wearing thin it seemed.

"Like fuck you will!" He slugged him in the side of his face for a third time and his face showed his pleasure for doing so. There was no attempt to mask his pleasure with hurting Damien, but it was really starting to annoy the dark boy.

He jerked upwards, practically sitting up, and he punched him back.

Erik jerked and loosened his grip, giving Damien the opportunity to kick and thrash his way out from under him.

Damien scrambled to his feet and delivered a sweet and necessary blow to Erik's face with his foot. He smiled as the thrill of attack rushed deep into his veins and he only grew more excited when the crowd of students cheered him along.

Erik collapsed onto the flat tile of the floor and blood sluggishly ran from his nose. With wide eyes, he lifted his head to look up at Damien, filled with shock and surprise. It soon boiled over with rage and he leapt to his feet, charging his way into Damien's stomach again.

"Erik, calm down!" Logan barked towards the outer ring of their arena.

Damien planted his hands against both of the other boy's shoulders and pushed him away.

Erik fell over and landed on his behind, his hands clenched too tightly and his breath coming out in shaking intervals.

Damien stalked forward and snarled at him.

He snarled back.

"I warned you, Erik." He lifted his foot and stomped downwards.


	11. Sacrifice

Chapter XI:  
_Sacrifice  
_

* * *

_**"Stop!"**_

Damien's head whipped to the side and his foot halted. He allowed it to rest gently against Erik's chest as he looked around the ring of the crowd, raven-feather hair hanging over his eyes.

He pushed his way through the small throng of students and paid no mind to the wheezing, red-faced girl who trailed behind. He stepped up to him, bells ringing in his ears, and he grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.

His eyes narrowed and he snapped out angrily, "What are you doing, Pip?"

"Please stop Damien," he said with a soft voice. His chest ached to see the other boy lying on the floor, blood literally gushing down his face. He couldn't bring himself to look up at Erik's angel. "He's hurt."

He scowled and pressed his foot roughly against the fallen Goth's chest. He grinned at the small squeak that retched from the boy, becoming even more joyous over the shamed face he made soon after. "Like I give a flying fuck," he replied to the blonde, "He had it coming to him."

He pressed his lips together tightly and stared up at him with intense eyes, trying to project his true emotions into the wilder boy. "Damien, please."

He glanced back down at him, eyes doing a bit of flickering themselves, before they settled into full eye-contact. He noiselessly licked his lips and then allowed his gaze to fall back down on Erik. He sighed roughly through his nose and he picked his foot up and off of him. "Fine..."

"Thank you Dami—"

He delivered a swift kick to the boy's side, making him cry out in pain and move his bloodied hands to his hurt side.

"Remember fucker," Damien said to him, "I warned you." He sent another warning look over at Logan before he marched out of the thinning ring of students and down the hall.

Pip followed after him, grasping onto the crook of his elbow once again. "Damien—"

"Pip," he cut in quickly, easily overpowering him with his deeper voice, "Where had Henrietta dragged you off to?"

He blinked and glanced at him and then to the hall they had paused in. It was devoid of students and he wasn't sure why. He gulped thickly and lifted his head back up to look at him. "Um, she just pulled me down the hallway. Why Damien?"

His eyes were dark and determined, "Why did you come back?"

He paused, eyes widening a little. "Why?"

He nodded, hand creeping around the hand Pip held his elbow with.

"Because I love you," the words sent a sharp ache through his stomach and heart. He desperately wanted to know it this was love-ache or the ache of lies.

He unhooked Pip from his arm and kept his eyes frozen on his eyes. "Come over to my house tonight; eight; just walk in, no need to knock. Don't be afraid to walk into the basement, Pip."

Pip could feel the nervous squeeze his body, wringing him out. He hesitated and glanced at him nervously. He didn't know what Damien was planning to do with him... He didn't think he wanted to know what Damien was planning.

All he wanted now was for everything to be fixed and settled. He wanted Damien to be saved, he wanted to relieve that pressure in his chest, and he wanted to finish his task.

Damien seemed to take notice of his hesitation and he gripped the back of his head, closing the space between them quickly. He pressed his lips against the blonde's, drawing him closer in the abandoned hall.

Heat exploded in his chest and stars burst in his eyes.

It didn't last very long, but the impact on both of them was intense.

Damien pulled away and he glanced down at him, "Will you come over tonight?" He asked again, voice pushing with a slight edge.

Pip nodded gently, stunned into a silence. His chest still tingled and he couldn't stop imagining his lips doing the same thing.

His first kiss, Pip couldn't stop thinking about. That was his first kiss. Ever...

He continued to nod even as Damien stepped down the hall and eventually out of sight.

Pip pushed a hand through his draping blonde hair and he sighed, allowing his legs to crumple together and for his side to rest heavily against the wall. He hadn't to admit it, but his chest was soaring. Now that Damien was no longer occupying the room, all of the other feelings inside of his drained and slowly, the rapture of the previous actions took full form and made him turn into a hopeless romantic.

He felt a little ashamed of himself. He wasn't human anymore; he was supposed to feel this way. He wasn't _allowed_ to feel that way! Damien was his human, practically his child. He was Damien's guardian, not his lover.

All the joy in his body slowly started to seep away and negative thoughts slowly filtered in.

He wasn't even supposed to be feeling these things so clearly and powerfully. Guardian Angels were given that block on purpose. Emotions led to mistakes with led to sins which led to unholy situations. They had their emotions distilled for a purpose! He was a malfunctioning angel.

...perhaps that was why he wasn't getting the job done. Perhaps that was why Damien wasn't brought into the light yet! He was a bad angel and everything he did wasn't quite right! That was why his miracle was taking so long!

"Pip,"

He glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see the Goths, minus one member.

"Hello," he greeted with a weak smile, turning fully so that he could freely converse with them.

"Just be careful around Damien," Logan told him, hardened eyes focused on his face.

"He's planning to kill you," Henrietta supplied.

He frowned softly and looked at them with an emotionless face. "I will... thank you." Inside, his body was storming with a full arrangement of emotions.

* * *

Another snow storm had arrived in South Park. The wind howled and ripped through the air with dangerous force, sending tides of white all over the small mountain town. It was terrible weather for driving, what with the blankets of snow that obscured view of the road. The snow fences that were lined up in all their neon orange glory could not fend back this barrage of snow.

And yet there he stood, dressed in his usual, in front of Damien's house once again. Pip would have found it justly ironic and terribly funny if it weren't for the foreboding fact that Damien was planning a terrible thing.

He stood the door and felt his skin grow numb as the wind and the snow slammed mercilessly onto him. Damien's previous words wafted into his thoughts and slowly, carefully, he turned the door and stepped inside.

The house was dark inside but warm and he was beckoned in. Pip hesitated at the door, slowly closing it behind him, and tried to remember where Chris might be off to. He felt no sign of Thomas either.

A thought struck him and he sighed heavily, walking thickly over to the basement.

Of course Damien would pick today of any day. It was Thursday... the day Christopher went out of state for twenty-four hours.

Of course Damien would pick the day where he would be home alone to do such a task...

He crept to the basement door and found that it was unlocked, very much unusual. Pip slipped down the stairs, the heat radiating from the basement swelling against his skin. He took careful steps, slowly revealing himself to the basement and the basement to himself.

"Damien?" He crept to the bottom steps and peered around the musky room, his chest tightening and his tongue swelling.

"Good, you made it." The pleasure was obvious in his voice and soon he stepped into view, garbed in black only with his golden inverted cross.

He smiled weakly and stepped to the bottom of the basement, mildly surprised to see it clean and without dirty laundry piled everywhere. As he glanced around more, he was presently surprised to see that the make-shift alter was gone and reassembled back into Damien's bed-frame, tucked back in the corner once more with the box-spring and mattress back on it.

"You've cleaned," he said softly, observing the youth in front of him.

He smiled and beckoned him forward with a small swipe of his hand. "Tonight is special. You know that too, don't you?"

Pip nodded, carefully taking a seat on the steps.

"No, stay standing and come over here." Damien ordered but not in his usual bossy voice. He seemed softer that night and Pip couldn't figure out why.

He could feel the wind blowing powerfully outside and he was sure the sides of the house were covered in compacted snow.

Pip stepped to him and faced the dark boy.

Damien pressed a hand to Pip's cheek and he smiled even wider.

He shifted in step and grinned uncomfortably back at him. "Hello,"

"Hello," he replied but did not stop staring.

"What is it you plan to do tonight?"

His smile faltered a little. "Pip, sit down..." He hand slid off of his cheek and he took a seat on the dark maroon carpet. He leaned back as the other took a seat next to him.

He rested his head in his hands, "Yes Damien?"

"Do you want me to be happy?" The question was leisurely, but Pip could tell it was very serious. Damien had something brewing inside of him and it was starting to become harder to read him. He was going to do something that Pip was sure he would regret later in life, and Pip found that he was unable to anything other than ride along.

"Of course I want you to be happy." He replied softly, a weak hint of his angelic voice bleeding through his vocals.

He sighed heavily through his nose and leaned against the slouched boy, his arm draping across his shoulders.

Pip lifted his head and turned it to look at him fully.

Damien placed his lips softly against his cheek, "Are you sure?"

He left out a breathy sigh, his chest bursting with heat once again, "What can I do to make you happy, Damien?" He could practically feel the hook loop through his lower lip, Damien's bait working into hooking him in.

He nuzzled his nose against Pip's cheek and then down his neck. His lips made contact with the nervous skin of his neck and Pip shivered under the touch. A click sounded through the room and Damien whispered something into his skin.

"Kill yourself."

He hiccupped in shock and jerked away from him, rolling across the floor. He quickly picked himself up and stared at the still teen. "What did you just say, Damien?"

He sighed roughly and picked himself up. Clenched in his hand was a standard switchblade, its curved knife stuck out and menacing. "Pip, you heard what I said."

He picked himself up to his feet and his wide eyes never left Damien's face. "You'd be happy if I died?" His throat was quivering and his body felt like it was eroding away.

"No, I'd be happy when you sacrifice yourself for my cause. The best sacrifice to Satan is of an innocent virgin. It's even better when that sacrifice is loved." He smiled sharply and he stepped forward to him.

He couldn't move.

"Do it for me," he handed the knife to him and his smile melted into a warm one...kind and loving.

The weight of the switchblade was powerful in his hands as he looked at the other boy and then down to it. His stomach was clenched with nerves and he felt close to vomiting and crying.

Damien traced a smooth line across his neck, his milkstone fingers gentle and cold against his gullet. The line was Pip's instructions to death... the dotted path in which he was supposed to cut.

"Do you love me?" The words swelled against Pip's lips.

"I do,"

He would do it. He would do it only to prove a point to Damien. Satan wouldn't accept Pip's soul either way; it was far too pure and far too protected for him to take. He would kill his human form to prove to Damien that he was making a grave mistake.

He would have to learn with the death of Pip Pirrip.

"I love you Damien," he muttered and brought the blade to his throat. With a quick swipe and an unbearable burn, Pip committed the act.


	12. The Ultimate Mistake

Chapter XII:  
_The Ultimate Mistake  


* * *

_

He could tell there was something terribly wrong when Pip's limp body hit his chest. A spiral of cold shot through him and dread bleed into his girth as Pip's blood smeared onto his shirt.

In the total shock of the situation, Damien had pushed the dying boy off of him and had turned around in panic, searching for a telephone.

He ran up the stairs quickly and stumbled into the kitchen, grabbing the telephone and hurriedly dialing 911. Damien quick stepped back down to the basement and nearly froze in his shoes at the sight of the blonde slumped on the ground, bleeding maroon against his equally maroon carpeting.

He slowly walked down to him, muttering quick instructions to his house to the operator, and he knelt down to him. He rolled Pip over so that he was face-up and he smoothed his thumb against the cooling cheek.

The blush that usually kept the boy's face a beautiful golden color was fading quickly, draining with the boy's blood. His eyes had closed during the fall, hiding those beautiful blues from Damien. It really was a blessing that he wasn't able to see the boy's eyes. The hair circled his head in a lovely halo like shape, crowning him with an angelic rest.

His hands were shaking as he rested the phone against his shoulder and put pressure to the split neck. Damien shivered at the feel of the deep cut across his hands and at the blood that soaked through the webbing between his fingers.

"Hurry! He's dead!" He shouted into the phone, his heart squeezing poisonous guilt through his body. In his disgust, he took a bloodied hand, stole the phone and chucked it across his room. It cracked against the wall and fell, broken, to the floor.

Damien ripped his inverted cross from his neck and threw it over to the phone, his rage building.

"You fucker!" he screamed at Pip's body, his hands putting more pressure against the gash, "You weren't supposed to fucking do it! You were supposed to refuse and run off and be the usual idiot you are!"

Disdainful tears built in his eyes and he sobbed heavily, body rattling with each hiccup.

"You stupid, stupid faggot," he wretched, "You weren't supposed to actually do it! You're a god damn idiot!"

The basement door was kicked open and the sound of ambulance sirens filled the room.

"Is he in here?" A man called.

"He is!" He called back and hastily dried the tears gushing down his face. "Hurry up already!"

The blonde didn't have any color in his face and he was cold like ocean water.

Damien was shooed aside and he hesitated by the stairs, hiding himself by them as the paramedics did their job.

"There's a slim chance we can restart his heart." One of them said aloud, as they picked him up onto the gurney. They pumped at his chest and quickly he was wheeled away.

Damien followed after them and out of his house.

"Where are your parents?" one of them asked through the flurry of the storm.

His hair whipped across his face. "My father's off for business... Pip, I don't know about his parents." He muttered softly, blood drying on the pads of his fingers.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," his tongue swelled, "Can I come with you?" His gaze shifted to the ambulance, his heart pounding heavily in his throat.

"Yes, explain to us what happened to him."

They climbed into the ambulance and they zipped away.

The ride was chaotic and quick, the paramedics working as hard as they could to temporarily stitch Pip up and keep him at the barest of living requirements. It was relatively speedy considering the poor condition the roads were in, but perhaps the need for Pip to live was what drove them to get there quickly.

His heart seemed to stop and start in intervals of seconds. His little chest would jerk as they pumped the heels of their hands against his chest, not wanting to resort to defibrillation just yet.

There was a flurry of steps as they marched into the hospital and proper care was given to the fallen blonde.

His neck was stitched up, blood supplied into him, and the group of doctors worked their hardest to get Pip started up again.

Damien lingered behind them, not quite noticed yet, and he flinched when he saw them tear open Pip's shirt. He flinched again as the defibrillator was pressed to his chest and it zapped him back to life.

The blonde was silent and the machine blipped with the shock.

They stood in silence, waiting for the heart to restart.

Another blip streaked across the screen and the group of doctors sighed in relief, proud that they were able to start the heart back up after minutes of supposed death.

"Is he alive?" He asked them and was shooed away to the waiting room.

Damien shifted from foot-to-foot as he paced in the waiting room by himself, his hands deep into his pockets. His energy was draining as quickly as his adrenaline was. Soon enough, he was too tried to stand and he took a heavy seat in one of the many chairs in the room.

"Excuse me; are the one who came with Mister Pirrip?"

He perked at the voice and he glanced up at the haggard looking intern at the door. He nodded silently and stared at him with dark eyes. He glanced at the man's bloodied hands and then back at his own. "Yeah... Pip's my... friend."

"What happened to him?"

Damien's chest burned and he continued to look at his stained hands. He could feel his logic coming back and venomous hatred shot through his blood. He was disgusted in himself. He was a weak boy and he was further from his goal then he initially thought.

He couldn't even deal with the death of Pip... how was he going to deal with all the other goals he had planned?

He took a moment to formulate an excuse and he carefully took in a breath to steady his body. He looked up at the man and replied with a steady and strong tone, "He tried to kill himself."

* * *

A gentle hand carded through his hair and he stirred from his sleep. He opened his eyes and glanced swiftly up at the person.

It was the doctor from earlier, looking even more tired and even more out of shape. He looked down at him grimly. "Your friend is stable but he hasn't woken up yet. He's in a room."

Damien stood up and quietly followed after the stiff-legged man, his hands subconsciously slipping deep into his pockets. He had yet to clean them, to afraid to wash away the blonde boy from existence.

They stepped down the pale halls of the hospital, twisting and turning around until they arrived to a single doorway.

Inside the joint room laid a comatose man and toward the window rested a motionless Pip.

His breath nearly caught in his stomach at the sight of the boy. He turned to the doctor, lowered his head to him, and walked over to the teenager. He sat down and stared down at him, his lips squeezed shut and his hands still dyed red. He slid his dirtied hand up and around Pip's, connecting them as a sort of lifeline.

His breath was gone again, knocked away by the boy's golden face, and he slumped a little. Alone in the room, with just the subtle sounds of the machines from both occupants, he was left to settle in his thoughts.

He was weaker then he thought and that made him fill with shame. He was not supposed to feel that way! He was stronger then that and he was above that! He was a force that was above the guilt of harming others.

Under his eyelids, Pip's eyes flickered with dreams.

"Pip, you're a fucking idiot." He muttered to him, pressing his cheek against Pip's small hand. "Such a fucking idiot..."

He stayed there for quite a while, in that single position. He wasn't sure how long he actually stuck like that, but by the time he was roused out of the weak sleep he was in, it was dark outside once again.

"Damien?"

He jerked up and looked over at Pip.

He was still motionless, breath coming out in gentle intervals. The scar that marred is neck was ugly and disfiguring.

Damien turned to the door and was surprised to see his father standing at it. "F-Father?" he stood up, surprised.

He stepped in and over to him quickly. He hugged his son tightly, unbearably tight. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Father, I'm fine."

He pulled away and held his son at an arms length. His gaze titled and went down to Pip, still motionless in his bed. His eyes squeezed together, "What happened, Damien?"

The black-haired boy sighed and he pulled away from his father. He sat back down and he crossed his fingers, clasping them together and hoped that his father wouldn't notice the blood on them.

"I invited Pip over. I went to get some food for us and when I came back, I saw him cut his throat with my switchblade. He tried to kill himself." His chest clenched with the lie and he felt close to vomiting.

Damien hated these feelings. He hated it so much he could just hit someone.

Chris took a seat next to him and sighed heavily. "I can't believe it. Pip seemed like such a happy boy. I can't believe he would do such a thing." He looked exhausted.

His nerves only tightened further. Damien stood up swiftly and marched out of the room.

The screech of his father's chair filled his ears as he exited the room. "Damien, where are you going?" The man called to him.

"I'm going home! I don't want to be here anymore!" He was spoiled child.

"Please, Damien, stay here and support your friend!"

"He's no friend of mine, the fucking idiot!" He was a spoiled child with a spoiled heart.

"Damien!" His father ran up behind him and caught him by the crook of the arm.

Just like Pip.

He turned around swiftly, his face red and tears spilling down his cheeks. "No! Take me home!"

His face hardened. Finally, Chris replied in a sullen tone, "Come along Damien."

He slowed down and he looked at his father, rubbing away his tears with stained hands.

In the end, Damien was just a spoiled little boy. He wanted everything and he wouldn't stand losing anything that was his.

Pip was his...


	13. Conflict

Chapter XIII:  
_Conflict  


* * *

_

Pip looked over his body, more than a little perturbed to see that it was him who rested in the bed. He sighed heavily and looked down at the resting Damien by his human side.

With inhuman hands, he stroked Damien's hair, hoping with all his might that Damien could feel even the slightest bit of comfort from him. His lips puckered as he stared down at the humble face that Damien presented in his sleep. It was nothing like the one that he held onto when in the waking world. He wanted to help Damien with all his heart, to be able to help Damien keep that natural look on his face, rather than that one he masked himself with.

He continued to card his fingers through his hair until the soft voice of Christopher shot through the air, calling out Damien's name.

Trailing behind Chris was Thomas, eyes wide and mouth firm.

"Pip," the large man said as he traveled up next to him, brown eyes focused, "How are you?"

"It would be a lie if I said I was okay. Honestly, I'm tired. A lot of my energy has drained from staying in human form for so long. It doesn't help that I had to go through death again. Even if it was brief... Not the best experience in the world." He replied, allowing himself to lean against the wall.

"And your feelings towards Damien,"

He sighed, "Stronger than ever. I'm starting to see what you told me several days ago."

Thomas hummed, looking at the father and son.

"It's a little disturbing to see myself sitting in the hospital bed like that. I wonder if Sister had seen me like that..." He chuckled softly, "I hope Damien isn't too hurt over this situation."

"Don't worry. This is just something Damien needed to see. The road he was walking would have taken him to such situations anyway. At least with this, he can turn back and start a different path." Thomas said quietly, shifting close to Chris.

"That's true. I just feel bad. That's all." He sighed and pressed his chin to his hand. The conversation from the day before slowly sank through his mind like coffee through grinds and filters.

He licked his lips somewhat nervously and asked in a gentle tone, "Thomas, I must ask you. Was this really the right thing to do?" He couldn't let the feeling go. As he too looked down at the family, he still couldn't tell if the things he did were right or wrong.

Thomas looked at him with a look of tiredness and he certainly seemed haggard with the topic. "You followed what your heart told you, correct?"

He nodded.

"Then you did the correct thing."

Pip smiled, and there it was... simple as that. "Thank you Thomas."

Thomas nodded and patted him on the head, "That's fine, Philip." His attention was finally turned back down to Damien and more specifically at his hands. He 'tsk'-ed lightly before he muttered softly, "Damien really should have washed his hands."

He too glanced down and was startled to find them still covered in his blood. "...really..." was all he could say to the sight. He was oddly touched at the idea, however. Disturbed, sure, but touched nevertheless.

Damien marched out of the room, looking angry and frustrated. His hands were clenched dangerously tight and his voice rose with sharp words.

"Damien, where are you going?"

Pip followed after him, ghosting about the hall with his feet clear above the ground.

"I'm going home! I don't want to be here anymore!"

Many angels were in the building. Many of them seemed upset and tired.

"Please, Damien, stay here and support your friend!"

Thomas followed Chris fluidly, his wings making gentle swipes as he slid along.

"He's no friend of mine, the fucking idiot!"

Pip frowned harshly and peered sadly down at his human.

"Damien!" Chris grabbed him by the crook of his arm and the boy halted.

His breathing was labored and hard. His chest heaved, his lips quivering. Fat tears squeezed from his eyes, soaking down his face. His cheeks reddened like his nose and ears and he shouted out to his father once again that he wanted to go home.

Christopher frowned and he beckoned his son along the hall, ready to take him home.

Pip picked up his head from Damien and he glanced down the hall and to the black mass that stepped down it with calculated steps. His stomach twisted as he watched as the Goths approached.

Damien pawed away his tears as he spotted them too. His took several deep breaths to settle himself, but the redness in his face didn't fade too quickly.

"Damien!" Logan called as they neared.

All of them looked angry and tired. A common theme between the people visiting Damien and Pip, it seemed. Their eyes seemed even darker and even more sunken in, faces twisted with malice and disappointment and sorrow.

The curly-haired leader was hunched, his cane supporting most of his weight. He glared deeply over at Damien, knowledge seeping from his gaze. He knew what really happened.

The dyed-haired one had a bandage over his realigned nose, keeping it still so that the broken cartilage may heal over again. He seemed red-faced with anger, but Pip wasn't sure if it was over his injured state or the boy's broken nose.

The female was smoking heavily, her face practically blue from it. Her skin had taken up a yellowish glow, making her seem sick. Pip could practically see the hours of smoking she did earlier.

The smallest one had reddened eyes, his features almost mirroring Damien's. It wasn't hard for Pip to see that the little teenager was crying previously, desperate to pull on his mask in front of Damien and the hospital's occupants.

Damien paused in step and growled under his breath. "You fucking morons," he murmured softly, staring the group of four down.

"What the fuck did you do?" Henrietta shouted at him as the space in-between grew smaller.

Chris seemed to stiffen at the arrival of the group of teenagers, face falling into a perturbed look. "Excuse me," he intervened, "What are you doing?"

They paused and all eyes shifted to the father.

Erik growled, "Your son was that one who cut Pip up!"

His face shriveled, "What are you children talking about! Of course my son didn't do it!"

Damien growled at them, "Shut the fuck up, you fuckers!"

"Damien, watch your mouth!" His father scolded, "Now please, stop this shouting! We're in a hospital for Pete's sake."

Pip linked his fingers and found he was thinking that Damien's blood was on his like his were on Damien's. He glanced over at Thomas and found the man relaxing, looking down at the group with ease on his face.

"This'll break up soon enough. Chris is there, the others wouldn't dare to call Damien out too far in front of his father."

"He's correct," Miranda said from her spot above Henrietta, "They'll stop soon. The point has been imbedded into his mind. They'll calm down soon enough after they remember you're still recovering in the room down the hall."

The Goths' angels hummed with confirmation at what their fellow angel said.

"Well, I hope so...."

* * *

"I can't believe it... he's been missing for two weeks... _injured_... where are his parents?" Henrietta muttered from her spot behind the school.

Logan grunted and allowed smoke to stream from his nostrils. "Damien did it, I'm sure. Snuck into the hospital a day later and kidnapped him. Took him home and slit his throat again. Used his blood to do his stupid ass ritual and found out that Satan isn't fucking real."

Erik sighed, nose bandage-free and showing signs of normalcy again.

Robert glanced up from his journal and sighed himself. "I just don't understand it..."

The others looked at him.

"I mean, apparently he was hurt at Damien's house. And he was rushed to the hospital... from Damien's house. Damien was the one who called the ambulance..." He said, slowly tinkering thoughts in his head. "Or, at least, that's how it must have happened, since they were there alone."

"Interesting thought," Logan admitted, licking his ashen lips as he glanced at the youngest member.

"I just can't figure out why Damien would call the ambulance if he wanted Pip dead..."

Henrietta snorted and the briefest of smiles flashed onto her face, "The stupid fuck does seem to have a conscience of some sort then. He chickened out, simple as that."

All four released out a billow of cigarette smoke as they thought about it.

Pip picked his hearing away from the group and he slowly drifted off to Damien's home to see how his human was. He was relieved that the four didn't plan to do anything harmful to his human and that was all he needed to now. For now, he pondered as he zipped over to Damien's location, he would watch over him until Damien was prepared to see him again.

It had been two weeks exactly since his arrival to the hospital and two weeks since his disappearance from that hospital. It needed to be done, really. He couldn't maintain the shell and stay in his shielded angelic form for too long. It strained him too much to do that and staying long distances from it only mace the strain worse.

He would return to Damien in his human form soon, but not now. It was too soon. Too soon for him to see the boy he had so much conflict with.

But he found that the longer he was missing, the more Damien seemed to loss ambition and gain frustration. Pip took it both as a positive and a negative change. It was good to see Damien losing interest in his plans of summoning Satan, but naturally, Pip was upset at Damien's overall frustration and unhappiness.

Perhaps he would come back tonight than? Watch over Damien while he slept, in physical form to provide deeper comfort?

Pip lowered himself down to the house and slid deep into the basement.

He found Damien there, slumped against the floor where Pip had slumped two weeks earlier.

The stain was hard to notice what with the similar colors and the dark light, but Pip could see it as clear as morning.

Damien hadn't even attempted to wash the blood out of his maroon carpet and, rather, spent the rest of the days after Pip's disappearance staring at it like the blonde would arise from it. Pip wasn't sure why he seemed so intent on keeping it there, but at some point, it started to worry him. Damien's fixation with that spot was starting to border into the disturbed.

So perhaps it was a good idea to bring himself back into Damien's life, for Damien's sake...

Damien stood up and crept over to his bed. He slid himself under the covers and then glanced over at his rarely used alarm clock. It was getting close to the usual time he'd sleep.

Pip was patient as he waited for the dark-haired boy to fall asleep. He had all the time in the world for Damien. He rested against the floor, silent, and once he saw the tell-tale signs of sleep in the boy, he allowed his human disguise to shape over him. The air in the room grew thick in his new lungs and the injury on his throat ached terribly, making it a little difficult to breath.

With stiff legs, Pip stood up and stepped over to Damien softly. He sat gently down onto the edge of the mattress, perfectly trained muscles making sure he didn't jar the other boy around too much, and he ran his fingers through the other boy's hair.

"Oh Damien..." he whispered, smoothing through his dark hair still. His throat was scratchy and damaged from the deep cut, soft and rough. "My little Damien..."

The other boy stirred.


	14. For Thy Love

Chapter XIV:  
_For Thy Love  


* * *

  
_He woke up to the uncomfortable feeling that tingling in his lower back. Soon, it spread outwards like spilled milk across a filmy counter table. It tickled down to his thighs and all the way up to his shoulders, attacking his heart with a nervous flutter.

Something wasn't right.

His eyes quickly cleared from their sleepy state and he craned his neck, tilting his head to the side. He froze, startled to see a pale golden hand resting in his vision. Above the hand was none other than Pip Pirrip.

Pip smiled down at him weakly, "Hello, Damien," he greeted in a rough but quiet voice.

He jerked and sat up quickly, practically pushing Pip off of the bed. Before the blonde could fall properly, he grabbed his wrist and yanked him further onto it. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he whispered fiercely at him, vision temporarily turning white. "How the hell did you get in here anyway?"

Pip smiled weakly at him before he sighed, "Forgive me please. I needed to see you... about... you know." He allowed a thin fingertip to trace against the bumpy surface of his stitches. He shivered, almost as if he weren't expecting to feel of it.

Damien shivered with him. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to see Pip. No, he wanted to see Pip. No, that wasn't true; he didn't want to see Pip like that. No, that wasn't correct either! He just wanted to see things go back to the way they were. To a time where his confidence was unstoppable, a time where Pip was being stupid and gay, to a time where he could take correct steps with that. But no, he was stuck with this universe where Pip had almost died and it was his entire fault.

His heart nearly stopped. "Fuck," he whispered softly. There he went thinking that sort of shit once again. It wasn't his fault; there was nothing to take the blame for! He wanted such a thing done and the only regret he should feel is that of it being a failure! He didn't feel bad for Pip being hurt, fuck no! But there he was, feeling that way, wanting things to be different and for Pip to be okay.

"What's wrong, Damien?" Pip must have read his mind, his hand lifting up and conforming to the curve of Damien's cheek.

He could feel his face flash red. He pushed Pip's hand away from his face, settling for it to rest on is knee instead. "It's this thing with you! I despise how you can act like _I'm_ the victim here and not you! Fuck, you slit open your throat by my demand and you're so fucking stupid that you think I'm the one who needs comforting!"

He hesitated before his smile grew warmer. "Oh Damien... I could never treat you any other way. I'm not a victim. I did this on my own will; it barely had anything to do with you—"

He gripped his face, dragging it closer to his own. "Why did you do it, Pip? Why?" He whispered sharply to his face.

Pip laughed softly, but the noise only came out jagged and painful. "I did it to prove a point."

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I did it to prove how important you are to me. I would do anything for you Damien. I love you." His smile was genuine and it made Damien's heart stir.

"You're so fucking stupid Pip. I wonder if you should have died back there." His heart squeezed again and he sighed, knowing full well he said the wrong thing. God damn how Pip was able to make him so stupid as well.

But Pip simply chuckled again in that tough wheeze of his and he placed a small kiss on his cheek, leaving Damien's face red again with shame.

"I'm feeling," his tongue tied as his confidence wavered, "bad about this... still."

"Why is that?" He questioned, gentle blue eyes flickering across his face.

"Because this all happened because of my stupid, stupid fixation with Satan..." His stomach nearly ripped itself apart, or at least that was what it felt like.

A look flashed across Pip's face. It wasn't a bad look; it was actually a little hopefully. But soon it disappeared, as quickly as it came, and Pip presented him a still, wide-eyed face.

"What?"

Pip held up his hand to Damien's mouth and thoroughly hushed him. His eyes lifted and he concentrated on something else entirely. He shivered, his hair almost visibly standing on end. "What _is_ that?" He whispered sharply, his eyes narrowing. He stood up swiftly, up and away from the bed.

"Pip, what are you doing?"

He shivered sharply, "C-Can't you feel that?"

His gaze narrowed at him, "Pip, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

His hand snaked up to his throat and he looked around nervously, eyes widening once again and blonde hair frizzing a little around his soft face. The hand clenched around his neck and the look on Pip's face only grew more and more panicked. Finally, as if reaching a climax in his small freak-out, Pip dropped to his knees and slumped forward.

...over his own bloodstain in Damien's carpet.

Damien sat, transfixed, in his bed. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He wasn't even sure what Pip had done just a moment again.

The blonde kept in the same position as he shivered, small gasps escaping him as he continued his trembling. "Damien..."

He carefully got out his bed and he stepped over him to softly, tip-toeing practically. "What?" He asked as he leaned over him.

"Damien... Do you believe in Satan?" His voice seemed smoother, perhaps the pressure was helping?

He licked his lips, "Pip, you know what I'm going to say..."

"What are you going to say?"

Damien stared down at the curtain of golden hair that shielded his face from Damien's view. "I do believe in Satan."

Something strange was going on, Damien could feel it in the marrow of his bones.

"Do... Do you follow Satan?"

He chewed his lip and fought back the urge to pull back Pip's head just so he could look at him correctly. In the end, he wouldn't. Instead, he replied to the odd blonde, "I don't. Not anymore."

Pip tilted his head back and he smiled sharply up at him.

Damien flinched back at the sight of clear, blue eyes staring back at him. "Wha—?"

Pip's hands uncurled from around his throat and he lowered to the floor.

Energy crackled around them, snapping at Damien's feet and making Pip's hair frizz out. Smoke filled the room and invaded Damien's lungs.

A deep, low laugh echoed through the basement and Damien felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. "What the fuck is going on?" He shouted into the smoke, soon thereafter coughing violently.

"You won't follow me anymore, Damien?"

He shivered and looked around quickly. The only thing in view was a very startled and very blue-eyed Pip at his feet. The rest of his vision was filled with grey smoke.

"And here I was, hoping that you would sacrifice this... boy, to me." Whatever it was chuckled thickly.

The room aired out slowly and the outline of whatever it was filled Damien's vision. It was large, hulking, muscular and... red.

His eyes widened at the sight. His mouth slowly slipped open as he gaped, unable to hold himself back. "S-Satan?"

The giant red creature stepped forward on fawn-like legs, a dangerous smile stretched across its toothy mouth. "You rang?"

Damien swallowed thickly. "Why have you come now? Why not before?"

"Simply to see if you continued to stay loyal to me. I've been following you for some time now. It was quite a disappointment to see you change so drastically for... that boy there." He pointed over to Pip's still form.

He too looked down at him, face scrunched and his lips pert.

"You shouldn't give up on your dreams for this boy." He said to him with an easing tone and a sly smile. "You've worked too hard so far for it to end so quickly."

He paused, eyes still pointed down at the blonde.

"Really now, why is he more important than your dreams? He's trying to take away your aspirations and goals simply because he thinks I'll harm in. That's not true at all. In fact, I'm rather fond of my followers."

Pip slowly regained life, his eyes filling back into their usual vibrant color. His sucked in a sharp breath and stood up quickly. He latched onto Damien's shoulder and looked over at Satan with beaming eyes. "Damien," he whispered sharply into his ear with that rough but sugary voice, "Don't listen to him. Satan has had thousands of years to perfect his persuasion skills. Don't let his lies take over you."

He snorted at Pip, "Really, which of us is better, hmm, little boy?" His look was all knowing as it made contact with Pip's own, "My word against yours, which one is more trustworthy?"

Pip frowned at him, face twisting ugly with the negative look. "My word will always be above yours."

"Oh really now? You've certainly had enough time to practice your "persuasion skills" too, isn't that right... Pip, was it?" Satan shot back, looking cocky as ever.

Damien stepped away from the blonde teen and he surveyed both of them.

Pip's face flushed golden red, "Don't,"

Satan laughed, "Oh, I think I will."

"No, don't you dare—!"

"Really Damien, who would you believe more? Me, whom you have followed for years now... or this angelic boy over there who has succeeded in corrupting your very thought-process in the length of a few weeks?"

"Angelic boy...?" He questioned, ears preening at the use of words. It seemed right to describe Pip as such, he certainly found himself thinking that on occasion. But it was a surprise in itself that Satan, an all powerful creature of doom and evil, would do the same thing.

"Stop that right now!" Pip's grainy voice raised into a tone Damien had never heard before.

"Yes, Damien. You must have noticed by now, correct? That golden face, those clear and knowledgeable eyes... The convenient timing of things. How do you think he got into your room tonight? The door is locked, just as it always is..." He liked his lips and sneered at Pip.

He glanced nervously at Damien, his eyes softening. "Please Damien; this is Satan who is talking to you. Satan has always had a lying streak... Please don't fall for his lies."

He squinted at the blonde. A dangerous sense of déjà-vu rushed through his body. He always thought that Pip seemed familiar, but he could never pin-point how and from where. "Who are you really, Pip?"

He shivered as he looked between the two satanic entities. "Damien, please..."

"Ah, ah, ah," Satan voiced quickly, shaking his finger at him, "The boy asked you a question. Don't avoid it, angel."

Damien glanced quickly over at Satan before he returned his gaze back at Pip. "Pip..."

He gulped, "Damien..."

"Answer him now or I'll have to show him!"

Pip gaped at Satan, "Oh no you won't!"

Satan took a step forward and he gripped Pip's head with his large hand.

The blonde-haired teen struggled, thrashing his legs back and forth while his arms clawed at the large hand encircling the crown of his head. "Let me go!"

"Let him go!" Damien cried out, his heart hammering in his chest violently.

He sneered down at the black-haired boy before he gripped Pip's face with his free hand and _tore_.

Damien nearly screamed at the sight. He quivered, eyes wide, as he watched the skin on Pip's body shed away, revealing not muscle or bone or blood but another, brighter version of Pip's skin.

Satan threw aside the skin of Pip's self and allowed the blonde to slump onto the floor in a heap.

Damien's eyes drifted down Pip's bare neck and to the white mess that accumulated on the teen's back. His mind flickered and jerked as it made sense of it and finally, the words clicked: _wings._

The glow around Pip's face grew from what Damien usually saw and everything seemed to make sense. Everything seemed to come back to him. From the Sunday weeks before. The angelic visit from that strange boy, it was Pip. Everything that had happened was because of Pip. Pip the angel. Pip the _Guardian Angel._

Anger surged through Damien.

Satan appeared beside Damien, both set of eyes falling down upon the paining angel. "You know what you should do Damien?"

He looked over at him quickly, chest raising and falling with anger, and he asked him what.

"You should de-wing him."

Pip gagged and rolled over, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. His chest rose and fell quickly, sharply, and breath entered through his perfect neck fluidly.

"Why don't you do it?" He asked while his face twisted. He looked down at Pip in mild disgust. He couldn't fathom how Pip was able to do it. How Pip was able to disguise himself as human and change Damien so much? His heart still ached for the boy, despite his anger towards him. It sickened Damien.

"Well, it's more dramatic if you do it." He said coyly, "And the fact that I can't. Only a person who is deeply loved by the angel can take away their wings."

He stared at the red creature for a long moment, leaving the room to complete silence.

Pip said nothing.

"What do you mean, 'deeply loved by the angel'?"

"The angel does love you, Damien. It's quite obvious." Satan pointed out.

Pip groaned, "Every Guardian Angel loves their human! That kind of love doesn't count!"

Satan snorted in amusement, "Is that really what you think, pitiful angel? Your attraction is far more than just that. It's true, sexual attraction."

He face betrayed him. Pip flinched and looked away fearfully, "That isn't true."

"Oh, but it _is._"

Damien hesitated. "What will happen to him if I take them?"

"He'll turn human like you."

"...that's it?"

Satan smiled, "It's enough. He's lived in a life of pleasure. Under the care of God, he wouldn't be able to fend for himself if he were human again. He's become too soft."

"What do I gain from all of this?" His chest ached and bled.

He cackled, "Good thinking there, Damien. Not only will you get your revenge on the angel for what he has put you through, I'll also give you what you've wanted all along: _power._"

Damien smiled at the idea. Yes, he has always wanted power. Power was one of the most important things to life. He couldn't pass it down, not with such an offer. The ache only grew stronger.

"Please, Damien, don't do it."

His smile grew wider at Pip's plead. He crouched down to him and flipped the light angel over, making him cry out.

"Please, Damien! Don't do this!" He struggled to flip himself back over, but Satan and planted a foot onto his lower back and successfully flattened him.

Damien gripped at the base of the first white, wide wing and he clenched it tightly. He pulled on it with all his might and was surprised to find it sliding off of Pip with relative ease.

Pip screamed at the top of his lungs, filling the room with the sounds of his pain.

He ejected the wing from Pip's back and watched as it started to crumble away into ash. He looked up at Satan and found him smiling with pride. He moved his hand to the other wing and felt his stomach churn with the pleads that escaped from Pip's trembling mouth.

"Please, _Damien! It hurts so much!_" Tears rolled down his cheek, fat and salty.

Something inside him felt like with was drying, withering, and dying... much like how his wings acted once out of Pip's back.

The hole from which the wing came swirled and shriveled up, leaving not a sign that anything out of the usual had extended from it. All that was left was smooth, milky skin.

The golden glow from Pip's face was fading once again, leaving him pale and shaking.

He gripped the remaining wing and tugged at it too, pulling it free from the flesh. A new batch of screams released and Damien was too distracted by them to fully watch the other wing crumble to ashes.

Satan seemed to cheer in his excitement over Damien's actions, his face twisted and beaming. "That's my boy, Damien! Well done!"

Pip was motionless under Damien's hands.

"Now, Damien, sacrifice him! Sacrifice him to me so that you may gain your power!"

He jerked his gaze up at the red entity. He stood up quickly and glared at him. "Hold on one minute! You said that if I did this, you'd give me my power! You didn't mention sacrificing Pip to get it!"

"Do you want your power or not? Pip," he lifted his foot off of him and nudged him in the side a little, "He is of no use anymore. He's human now and he would make a lovely sacrifice. Might as well end his soon to be miserable existence now, right?"

His stomach squirmed again and he could feel bile rise to the back of his tongue. "If I kill Pip... you promise to give me the power I seek?"

"I promise you that." He smiled eagerly.

That wasn't a part of the plan. It wasn't right. He had killed Pip already. He couldn't do it, he couldn't do it, he couldn't do it. He could do it?

Would he do it?

Would he..?

"No."

Satan jerked and he looked at the boy startled, "What did you say?"

Damien took a deep breath and he closed his eyes. His body felt... fluttery. His tongue sopped up the saliva that was in abundance in his mouth. "Satan, I want you to..."

He growled.

"To leave us alone. Forever." Damien opened his eyes to an enraged Satan.

"_What did you say_?" Fire erupted around them and the look on the demonic entity was entirely indescribable.

It left a mark on Damien's mind, burned and frightened... but he kept strong, "Leave us," Damien commanded as he stood his ground, "And never interfere with my life or Pip's ever again!"

Satan stared at him for a long moment before he sucked in a deep breath and with a flash, vanished.

Damien stood numbly for a moment before he dropped down to Pip. He flipped the blonde over carefully and he stroked his face softly. "Pip?"

He didn't move.

"Pip, wake up." He couldn't see if there were any injuries, but he was sure that Pip was suffering from a great deal of shock, transitioning from being an angel to being a human once more.

"Pip, please wake up." He placed his lips softly against his brow.

Pip's eyes slowly fluttered open, bright blue irises peering up at him. "Damien?"


	15. Conclusion

Chapter XV:  
_Conclusion  


* * *

_

He smiled weakly over at the dark teen, chuckling as smoothly as the stitches on his throat would allow. He nuzzled against the other's throat, cooing softly.

A hand stoked through his hair, smoothing it back and out of his eyes.

"Damien..." He muttered against the flesh under his lips.

"Yes, Pip?" The voice rumbled deep against his lips.

"I love you." He said gently, clasping his eyes closed as he leaned against him.

Damien sighed and he wound his arm around his waist. "You too..."

His back burned from earlier events, and he was sure they would burn for a long time. He would be okay. He had Damien by his side, to live out the rest of his life with. Even if they parted ways later in their days, they would be forever connected. Pip was sure of that. But, he was also sure that such a situation would never happen. He was sure they'd stay with each other for a long time.

His lifted himself up, sapphire eyes glancing up at milkstone skin and basalt eyes. He pressed his lips against Damien's, smiling as he did so.

He could feel Damien smile back into his.

He shifted and he found himself remembering what it was like the wear clothing after so long. Sitting in Damien's shirt and pants, he welcomed the warmth of the cloth and from Damien's skin.

Everything was different as human, he marveled, and it wasn't bad at all. Being permanently in human form had changed things from what he was used to not a week ago. The smells, the feels, the emotions were stronger and more settling.

He was thankful that he could experience those things with Damien. Of course it pained him to know that he wouldn't be able to do his guardian duties. In fact, it hurt knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to do it again... if he, in fact, was allowed back into heaven once his human form died. But he was strong and he had Damien by his side, giving him heat and strength, and he would survive.

The chill from the basement that had been so relentless against him was gone just as Satan was gone. It left with the creature and it opened up Pip's lungs.

He finally understood what that cold was. It was Satan's influence, weaseling its way through his human shield and straight to his unprotected physical-soul. It was Satan, taking influence of Pip's fake-body to see if Damien was still committed to him.

"Pip," Damien sighed as he stood up.

He looked at him, watching as he stepped around his room silently. His eyes lingered to the stain on the carpet just at Damien's feet.

"I'm sorry."

He hummed softly, "You proved you were sorry when you stood and told Satan to leave. You proved you were sorry by not being tempted by him. That's all I could ask for."

He sat down on the floor and slumped over, his arms crossing behind his head. "So... you've been here the entire time?"

He smiled and stood up himself. He stepped over to Damien and sat down next to him. "I have."

"An angel..."

"Yes," he smiled weakly, "Does that still bother you?"

He grunted, "A little, I guess. Haven't really gotten this whole thing through my head yet..."

"Take as much time as you need."

"But I must ask you this,"

Pip looked back into his dark eyes and waited.

"Everyone has an angel, don't they?"

He nodded.

"And you were my angel."

He nodded again.

"So, now that you're... human, who is my angel? Who is your angel?"

Pip paused, his eyes widening a little. He had never heard of such a scenario and he didn't know what to make of it. "I... don't know, actually. Perhaps we'll be without a Guardian. Perhaps we'll get new ones. I'm not sure. I've never seen anything like this before."

He made a small noise to confirm he was listening. He looked away and up to the ceiling. "I'm going to have a hell of a time explaining this to Father."

Pip hummed again, "Please Damien, be kind to your father. He's been through quite a lot. All he wants is for you to love him..."

He sighed but didn't reply.

"Damien,"

"What?" He snapped, sitting up and glaring at him nastily.

His breath hovered. Best to stay off the father topic for now, he thought. "What are you going to do with Logan, Erik, Henrietta, and Robert?"

He sighed and fell back onto the floor, "It would be best to avoid them for a while... I guess."

He smiled, "I suppose so. They are nice children despite their outward look."

Damien grunted, "Yeah, they're nice when you haven't punched their face in. No thank you, I think I'll avoid them."

Pip flopped onto his back as well, side-by-side with the darker teenager. He swallowed roughly, "I love you."

Damien snorted and he rolled over so that he was facing him. He placed a small kiss on his cheek, smiling at him with a genuine Damien smile.

Pip smiled as a shiver struck through him.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hiya guys! Thanks for all of the support and junk, it makes me quite happy. -heart-  
_Anyway_, go check out this fanart for this fic! Oh my god, this is so exciting!  
_**killjoynervosa (dot) deviantart (dot) com/art/damien-pip-138048366**_  
It's very, _very _well done.  
Thanks for reading!


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